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MODERN  CLASSICAL 
PHILOSOPHERS 


SELECTIONS 

ILLUSTRATING  MODERN  PHILOSOPHY 
FROM  BRUNO  TO  SPENCER 


COMPILED  BY 

BENJAMIN  RAND,  PH.  D. 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 


BOSTON   AND    NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN    COMPANY 


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COPYRIGHT   1908  BY  BENJAMIN  RAND 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


'ill  I 


PREFACE 

"  MODERN  CLASSICAL  PHILOSOPHERS  "  aims  to  present  in  a  series 
of  extracts  some  of  the  essential  features  of  the  chief  philoso- 
phical systems  produced  by  the  great  philosophers  from  Bruno 
to  Spencer.  The  book  is  virtually  a  history  of  modern  philosophy 
based  not  upon  the  customary  description  of  systems,  but  upon 
selections  from  original  texts,  and  upon  translations  of  the  authors 
themselves.  The  attempt  has  been  made  to  apply  the  case  sys- 
tem, which  has  proved  so  successful  in  the  teaching  of  law,  to 
philosophical  instruction.  In  this  respect  the  work  follows  the 
model  of  the  author's  earlier  publication  in  Economic  History, 
which  was  printed  as  a  text  book. of  required  reading  to  accom- 
pany courses  of  lectures  given  on  that  subject  in  different  uni- 
versities. It  is  likewise  hoped  to  provide  the  general  reader  with 
a  volume  from  which  he  may  readily  discover  the  content  and 
method  of  the  great  philosophical  masters  of  the  modern  period. 
Beginning  with  Bruno,  the  philosophical  martyr,  the  dia- 
logue which  appears  in  this  work  is  one  in  which  the  author 
describes  the  unity  and  divine  immanence  in  all  things  in  the 
universe,  thereby  anticipating  the  doctrine  of  Spinoza,  From 
Bacon  has  been  selected  an  account  of  "the  idols"  or  false  notions 
which  hinder  men  from  a  right  pursuit  of  scientific  research,  and 
of  the  theory  of  induction  by  which  they  may  advance  in  a  true 
interpretation  of  nature.  The  passages  from  Hobbes  contain  his 
doctrine  of  the  natural  state  of  man  as  one  of  war,  and  of  the 
necessity  of  "that  great  Leviathan,"  whereby  peace  and  order 
may  be  established  hi  the  political  commonwealth.  Of  Des- 
cartes, a  part  of  the  "Discourse  on  Method"  is  printed  first, 
since  it  contains  his  intellectual  autobiography  and  his  peculiar 
principles  of  method  for  the  attainment  of  truth;  a  transition 
is  then  made  to  his  "  Meditations  on  First  Philosophy,"  to  set 
forth  the  application  of  his  method  of  doubt  to  the  discovery  of 
absolute  certainty,  and  also  his  attempt  to  demonstrate  the 


vi  PREFACE 

existence  of  God.  From  "The  Ethics"  of  Spinoza  are  given 
the  doctrines  of  his  one  eternal  substance  as  the  immanent  cause 
of  the  universe,  of  his  three  kinds  of  cognition,  and  of  his  intel- 
lectual love  of  God.  The  "Monadology"  of  Leibnitz  is  repro- 
duced in  full.  Of  Locke,  will  be  found  the  refutation  of  the 
existence  of  innate  ideas  and  principles,  illustrative  chapters 
tracing  the  sources  of  all  our  knowledge  to  sensation  and  re- 
flection, and  a  statement  of  the  resultant  extent  and  reality  of 
human  knowledge.  Berkeley's  idealism,  it  was  believed,  could  be 
better  learned  by  reproducing  at  some  length  his  "  Principles  of 
Human  Knowledge"  than  by  numerous  extracts  from  his  vari- 
ous other  writings.  The  philosophical  significance  of  Hume  in 
this  work  is  based  on  his  doctrine  that  causality  owes  its  origin 
to  habit,  and  on  the  consequent  scepticism  due  to  the  limitation 
of  the  causal  idea  to  the  realm  of  experienced  The  French  philo- 
sophy of  the  eighteenth  century  finds  here  its  representative  in 
Condillac,  whose  work  on  the  "Treatise  of  Sensations"  contains 
the  noted  description  of  the  endowment  of  a  marble  statue  with 
the  different  senses  of  man  in  succession.  Since  the  critical 
philosophy  of  Kant  may  appropriately  be  regarded  as  the  high- 
water  mark  of  modern  philosophy,  an  effort  has  been  made  to 
give  an  extended  outline  of  his  system  through  selections  as 
drawn  from  the  "Critique  of  Pure  Reason"  and  the  "Critique 
of  Practical  Reason."  By  extracts  from  some  of  their  most 
important  treatises,  Fichte's  subjective  idealism,  Schelling's 
objective  idealism,  and  Hegel's  absolute  idealism,  are  set  forth 
with  sufficient  clearness,  it  is  believed,  to  enable  the  student  to 
gain  some  just  appreciation  of  these  great  doctrines.  A  section  on 
"Faith"  from  the  "Vocation  of  Man"  by  Fichte,  and  a  chapter 
on  "  The  Contrite  Consciousness  "  from  the  "  Phenomenology  "  of 
Hegel,  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  noble  and  inspiring  thought  to 
be  found  in  German  philosophy  apart  from  its  system-building. 
The  spirited  writing  of  Schopenhauer,  with  its  deep  keynote  of 
pessimism,  and  its  fine  exaltation  of  art,  is  taken  from  his  prin- 
cipal work  on  "The  World  as  Will  and  Idea."  From  Comte, 
the  founder  of  Positivism,  has  been  chosen  the  chapter  in 
which  he  expounds  the  nature  and  importance  of  the  positive 


PREFACE  vii 


philosophy.  Possibly  Mill  may  not  be  regarded  by  many  as 
strictly  in  the  rank  of  classical  philosophers,  but  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted by  all  that  the  theory,  here  reproduced,  of  the  belief  in 
matter  as  dependent  upon  the  permanent  possibilities  of  sensa- 
tions constitutes  a  classical  chapter  in  the  history  of  modern 
philosophy.  Spencer's  doctrine  of  "The  Unknowable"  is  very 
briefly  presented  in  harmony  with  his  apparent  intention  of 
merely  paving  the  way  for  an  exposition  of  "The  Knowable." 
With  the  statement  of  this  philosophy  of  the  knowable  and  with 
Spencer's  far-reaching  law  of  evolution,  this  volume  concludes. 

In  the  selections  of  modern  philosophy,  as  traced  in  the  fore- 
going paragraph,  which  are  to  be  found  in  this  book,  certain 
shortcomings  due  to  the  nature  of  the  task  are  inevitable.  No 
two  authorities  will  entirely  agree  as  to  the  authors  to  be  chosen. 
Limitations  as  to  the  length  of  the  work  must  exclude  important 
passages  in  the  authors  admitted.  Although  a  proper  balance 
among  the  different  writers  is  most  desirable,  yet  the  task  must 
be  finished  before  a  complete  survey  of  their  proper  relations 
can  be  correctly  made.  The  book  will,  therefore,  best  realize  its 
final  purpose  if  it  shall  prove  a  stimulus  to  the  student  for  the 
perusal  of  the  complete  works  of  the  classical  philosophers 
represented  in  this  volume. 

The  original  texts  reproduced  in  this  book  either  have  been 
printed  directly  from  the  best  available  editions,  or  have  been 
carefully  compared  with  them.  Omissions  from  the  various 
texts  are  shown  throughout  by  the  retention  of  the  numbers 
accompanying  the  original  chapters  and  paragraphs,  and  by 
the  use  of  dots  when  these  numbers  do  not  suffice.  Footnotes 
of  the  editor  are  indicated  by  signs,  those  of  the  authors  or 
translators*  by  numerals.  Among  the  translations  included  in  the 
volume  those  from  the  writings  of  Bruno  by  Mrs.  Josiah  Royce 
and  Professor  Royce,  of  Condillac  by  Professor  F.  C.  de 
Sumichrast,  of  Fichte  and  Schelling  by  the  editor,  and  of  Hegel 
by  Professor  Royce  appear  here  for  the  first  time.  Concerning 
the  other  translations  which  have  previously  been  published, 
Descartes'  "Method"  and  "Meditations"  by  J.  Veitch,  Spinoza's 
"  Ethics,"  by  R.  H.  M.  Elwes,  Kant's  "  Critique  of  Pure  Reason," 


viii  PREFACE 

by  F.  Max  Miiller  and  his  "Critique  of  Practical  Reason"  by 
T.  K.  Abbott,  Fichte's  "  Science  of  Knowledge  "  by  A.  E.  Kroeger 
and  his  " Vocation  of  Man"  by  Wm.  Smith,  Hegel's  "Logic" 
by  Wm.  Wallace,  Schopenhauer's  "World  as  Will  and  Idea," 
by  R.  B.  Haldane  and  J.  Kemp,  and  Comte's  "Positive  Phil- 
osophy," by  Harriet  Martineau,  may  fairly  be  said  to  have 
translators  almost  as  classical  for  the  English  readers  of  these 
volumes  as  the  original  authors  themselves.  "Selections  from 
Kant,"  also,  by  Professor  John  Watson,  from  which,  with  his 
kind  permission,  extracts  have  been  here  reproduced,  is  possibly 
unexcelled  among  philosophical  translations  for  combined 
accuracy  and  literary  skill. 

This  work  was  first  planned  more  than  a  decade  ago  on  the 
publication  of  the  several  editions  of  the  author's  "Selections 
illustrating  Economic  History;"  but  its  final  preparation  has 
been  delayed  by  the  years  of  labor  required  for  his  "Life, 
Letters,  and  Philosophical  Regimen  of  the  Third  Earl  of 
Shaftesbury"  and  his  comprehensive  "Bibliography  of  Philo- 
sophy." Its  resumption  has  on  several  occasions  been  urged  by 
Professor  William  James,  owing  to  the  success  of  the  "  Economic 
History"  in  meeting  a  real  need  among  students.  His  obliga- 
tions in  the  completion  of  the  work  at  the  present  time  are  of  a 
varied  character.  His  thanks  are  first  due  to  the  publishers  of 
several  philosophical  books  for  the  courtesy  of  their  permission 
to  reprint  the  selections  which  constitute  a  number  of  the  chap- 
ters in  this  volume.  The  names  of  these  publishers  will  be  found 
at  the  beginning  of  the  respective  chapters,  accompanying  the 
titles  of  their  published  works.  Valuable  suggestions  have  also 
been  received  from  Professors  Watson,  James,  Santayana,  and 
Calkins,  the  Rev.  Dr.  A.  W.  H.  Eaton,  and  Mr.  H.  M.  Sheffer. 
Especially,  however,  does  the  author  wish  to  express  his  grati- 
tude for  the  constant  philosophical  advice  of  Professor  Josiah 
Royce,  for  the  revision  of  his  translation  of  Schelling  by  Dr. 
Edmund  von  Mach,  and  for  the  assistance  in  the  preparation  of 
the  text  by  his  brother,  Mr.  Frederic  C.  Rand. 

BENJAMIN  RANTX 
EMERSON  HALL,  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

/I.    GIORDANO   BRUNO   (1548-1600) 

CONCERNING    THE  .  CAUSE,    THE    PRINCIPLE, 

AND    THE    ONE 1-23 

Translated  from  the  Italian  by  Josiah  Royce  and  Katharine  Royce. 

SECOND  DIALOGUE     .    .    : i 

IL    FRANCIS  BACON   (1561-1626) 

NOVUM  ORGANUM 24-56 

"THE  IDOLS" 24 

"INDUCTION" 48 

ill.    THOMAS  HOBBES   (1588-1679) 

LEVIATHAN    . .    .     .    .    57-100 

PART  I.  OF  MAN 

CHAP.  I.  OF  SENSE  57 

CHAP.  II.  OF  IMAGINATION 59 

CHAP.  III.  OF  THE  CONSEQUENCE  OR  TRAIN  OF 

IMAGINATIONS 64 

CHAP.  V.  OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE 69 

CHAP.  VI.  OF  VOLUNTARY  MOTIONS  COMMONLY 

CALLED  PASSIONS 76 

CHAP.  XIII.  OF  THE  NATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND  80 
CHAP.  XIV.  OF  THE  FIRST  AND  SECOND  NATURAL 

LAWS  AND  OF  CONTRACTS 84 

CHAP.  XV.  OF  OTHER  LAWS  OF  NATURE  ....  88 

PART  II.  OF  COMMONWEALTH 

CHAP.  XVII.    OF  THE  CAUSES,  GENERATION,  AND  DEFI- 
NITION OF  A  COMMONWEALTH 96 

TV.   RENE   DESCARTES   (1596-1650) 

DISCOURSE   ON  METHOD.     (Parts  I-II)   ....  101-116 

Translated  from  the  French  by  John  Veitch. 

MEDITATIONS   ON  THE   FIRST  PHILOSOPHY     117-147 
Translated  from  the  French  by  John  Veitch. 

MEDITATION     I.  OF  THE  THINGS  OF  WHICH  WE  MAY 

DOUBT 117 

MEDITATION    II.  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  HUMAN  MIND    1.22 
MEDITATION  III.  OF  GOD,  THAT  HE  EXISTS     .    .    .    .    132 


x  CONTENTS 

yV.   BARUCH  DE  SPINOZA   (1632-1677) 

THE  ETHICS I48-I98 

Translated  from  the  Latin  by  R.  H.  M.  El-wes. 

PART  I.  CONCERNING  GOD  (Prop,  i-xxxvi)  .  .  148 
PART  II.  OF  THE  NATURE  AND  ORIGIN  OF  THE  MIND 

(Prop,  i-xi,  XXXH-XXXVI,  XL-XLIX)    ....         166 
PART  V.  OF  THE  POWER  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING, 
OR  OF  HUMAN  FREEDOM   (Prop,  i-vi,  XIV-XLII)          181 

VI.    GOTTFRIED  WILHELM  VON  LEIBNITZ 

(1646-1716) 

THE  MONADOLOGY 199-214 

Translated  from  the  French  by  Frederic  H.  Hedge. 

VII.  JOHN  LOCKE   (1632-1704) 

AN    ESSAY     CONCERNING     HUMAN     UNDER- 
STANDING      215-262 

BOOK  I.  OF  INNATE  PRINCIPLES. 

CHAP.  I.    INTRODUCTION 215 

CHAP.  II.  No  INNATE  SPECULATIVE  PRINCIPLES  .  217 
CHAP.  III.  No  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES  .  221 

BOOK  II.  OF  IDEAS 

CHAP.  I.  OF  IDEAS  IN  GENERAL 226 

CHAP.  II.  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS 229 

CHAP.  III.  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  SENSE 230 

CHAP.  IV.  IDEA  OF  SOLIDITY 231 

CHAP.  VI.  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  REFLECTION  .  .  .  235 
CHAP.  VII.  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  BOTH  SENSATION 

AND  REFLECTION ;  .  .  .  235 

CHAP.  VIII.  FARTHER  CONSIDERATIONS  CONCERNING 

OUR  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  SENSATION 237 

CHAP.  IX.  OF  PERCEPTION 242 

CHAP.  XII.  OF  COMPLEX  IDEAS 245 

CHAP.  XXIII.  OF  OUR  COMPLEX  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES  .  248 

BOOK  IV.    OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

CHAP.        III.    OF  THE  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  254 

CHAP.         IV.    OF  THE  REALITY  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  257 

VIII.    GEORGE  BERKELEY   (1685-1753) 

A  TREATISE   CONCERNING  THE    PRINCIPLES 

OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE      .  .  263-306 


CONTENTS  xi 

IX.  DAVID  HUME   (1711-1766) 

AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDER- 
STANDING      307-346 

SECTION     II.    OF  THE  ORIGIN  OF  IDEAS 307 

SECTION    III.    OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS  ...  312 

SECTION    IV.    SCEPTICAL  DOUBTS    CONCERNING    THE 

OPERATIONS  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING 313 

SECTION  VII.    OF  THE  IDEA  OF  NECESSARY  CONNEXION  326 
SECTION  XII.    OF  THE  ACADEMICAL  OR  SCEPTICAL  PHI- 
LOSOPHY       342 

X.  ETIENNE  BONNOT  DE  CONDILLAC 

(1715-1780) 

TREATISE   ON   SENSATIONS 347~375 

Translated  from  the  French  by  Frederick  C.  de  Sumichrast. 
CHAP.  I-VII.  FIRST  NOTIONS,  DESIRES,  WILL  AND 
PERSONALITY,  OF  A  MAN  LIMITED  TO  SENSE  OF 
SMELL 347 

XI.  IMMANUEL  KANT  (1724-1804) 

CRITIQUE  OF  PURE   REASON 376-405 

Selections  translated  from  the  German  by  John  Watson. 

TRANSCENDENTAL  ./ESTHETIC 381 

TRANSCENDENTAL  ANALYTIC 
BOOK    I.  ANALYTIC  OF  CONCEPTIONS     .     ...     .     .     .          392 

CRITIQUE   OF  PURE  REASON   [continued]    .     .     .  406-456 
Translated  from  the  German  by  F.  Max  Miiller. 

BOOK  II.  ANALYTIC  OF  PRINCIPLES 406 

CHAP.  I.  SCHEMATISM  OF  PURE  CONCEPTS  .  .  .  407 
CHAP.  II.  PRINCIPLES  OF  PURE  UNDERSTANDING  .  408 
CHAP.  III.  DISTINCTION  OF  PHENOMENA  AND  Nou- 

MENA 420 

TRANSCENDENTAL  DIALECTIC 

CHAP.      I.    PARALOGISMS  OF  PURE  REASON     ...  426 

CHAP.    II.    ANTINOMY  OF  PURE  REASON     ....  431 

CHAP.  III.    THE  IDEAL  OF  PURE  REASON  ....  446 

CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON 457-485 

Translated  from  the  German  by  Thomas  Kingsmill  Abbott. 

•BOOK   I.  THE  ANALYTIC  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON    .         457 
BOOK  II.  THE  DIALECTIC  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON  .         471 

XII.   JOHANN   GOTTLIEB   FICHTE   (1762-1814) 
FIRST  INTRODUCTION  INTO  THE  SCIENCE  OF 

KNOWLEDGjta| 486-496 

Translated  from  m^rerman  by  Benjamin  Rand. 


xii  CONTENTS 

THE  SCIENCE  OF   KNOWLEDGE 497~5i5 

Translated  from  the  German  by  A.  E.  Kroeger. 

"THE  FUNDAMENTAL  PRINCIPLES  OF  KNOWLEDGE"  .      407 

THE  VOCATION   OF  MAN 5*6-534 

Translated  from  the  German  by  William  Smith. 

BOOK  III.  FAITH 516 

XIII.  FRIEDRICH  WILHELM  VON  SCHELLING 

(1775-1854) 

SYSTEM   OF  TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM.   535-568 
Translated  from  the  German  by  Benjamin  Rand. 

INTRODUCTION  TO  IDEALISM _     535 

I.  THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM 


XIV.   GEORG  WILHELM  F.  HEGEL    (1770-1831) 

THE  LOGIC   OF  HEGEL 569-613; 

Translated  from  the  German  by  William  Wallace. 

CHAP.        I.  INTRODUCTION 569 

CHAP.      II.  PRELIMINARY  NOTION 574 

CHAP.     VI.  LOGIC  FURTHER  DEFINED  AND  DIVIDED  578 

CHAP.    VII.  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  BEING      ....  583 

CHAP.  VIII.  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  ESSENCE  ....  592 

CHAP.     IX.  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  NOTION     .    .  604 

THE  PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE   SPIRIT.     .  614-628 

Translated  from  the  German  by  Josiah  Royce. 
THE  CONTRITE  CONSCIOUSNESS 614 

XV.  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER   (1788-1860) 

THE  WORLD  AS  WILL  AND   IDEA      ....  629-671 
Translated  from  the  German  by  R.  B.  Haldane  and  J.  Kemp. 

BOOK     I.  THE  WORLD  AS  IDEA,  §§  1-5 629 

BOOK   II.  OBJECTIFICATION  OF  THE  WILL  §§  17-25     .  639 

BOOK  III.  PLATONIC  IDEA:  THE  OBJECT  OF  ART,  §  §  32-36  651 

BOOK  IV.  ASSERTION  AND  DENIAL  OF  THE  WILL  §§57-68  658 

XVI.  AUGUSTE   COMTE   (1798-1857) 

THE  POSITIVE  PHILOSOPHY 672-689 

Translated  from  the  French  by  Harriet  Martineau. 

CHAP.  I.  VIEW  OF  THE  NATTfBMtosrD  IMPORTANCE 
OF  THE  POSITIVE  PHILOSOPHY 672 


CONTENTS  xiii 

XVII.   JOHN   STUART    MILL    (1806-1873) 

AN  EXAMINATION  OF  SIR  WILLIAM  HAM- 
ILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 690-702 

CHAP.  XL  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY  OF 

THE  BELIEF  IN  AN  EXTERNAL  WORLD    .     .          690 
XVIII.    HERBERT  SPENCER    (1820-1903) 

FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  A  NEW  SYSTEM  OF 

PHILOSOPHY       703-732 

PART    I.   THE  UNKNOWABLE,  §  31      .     .     .         703 
PART  II.   THE  KNOWABLE 

CHAP.  I.     PHILOSOPHY  DEFINED 708 

CHAP.  XIV-XVII.    THE  LAW  OF  EVOLUTION    .  714 

INDEX •  733 


MODERN  CLASSICAL 
PHILOSOPHERS 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 

(1548-1600) 

CONCERNING   THE   CAUSE,  THE    PRINCIPLE, 
AND   THE   ONE 

Translated  from  the  Italian*  by 
JOSIAH  ROYCE  and  KATHARINE  ROYCE 

SECOND  DIALOGUE1 

AURELIUS   DlXON  • 

THEOPHILUS 
PERSONAGES  -I  _ 

GERVASIUS 

POLYHYMNIUS 

Diocon.  Have  the  kindness,  Master  Polyhymnius,  and  you 
too,  Gervasius,  not  to  interrupt  our  discourse  further. 

Polyhymnius.  So  be  it. 

Gervasius.  If  he  who  is  the  master  speaks,  surely  I  shall  be 
unable  to  keep  silence. 

Dix.  Then  you  say,  Theophilus,  that  everything  which  is  not 
a  first  principle  and  a  first  cause/ has  such  a  principle  and  such 
a  cause? 

Theophilus.  Without  doubt  and  without  the  least  controversy. 

Dix.  Do  you  believe;  accordingly,  that  whoever  knows  the 

*  From  Delia  causa,  principio,  ed  uno.   Venet.  [or  London],  1584. 

1  The  dialogues  which  constitute  this  work,  Delia  causa,  etc.,  are  the  product 
of  an  effort  to  state  a  thought  which  Bruno  felt  to  be  his  own,  under  the  lim- 
itations of  language  imposed  by  the  current  scholastic  terminology,  and  espe- 
cially by  the  traditional  Aristotelian  distinctions  of  form  and  matter,  of  final 
and  efficient  cause,  of  potentia,  or  possibility,  of  actus,  or  actuality,  etc.  These 
distinctions  ought  to  be  in  the  student's  mind  as  he  reads  the  dialogue.  But 
the  historical  phraseology  is  in  general  rather  an  encumbrance 'than  an  aid 


2  BRUNO 

things  thus  caused  and  originated  must  know  the  ultimate  cause 
and  principle? 

Theo.  Not  easily  the  proximate  cause  or  the  proximate  prin- 
ciple; it  would  be  extremely  difficult  to  recognize  even  the  traces 
of  an  ultimate  cause  and  creative  principle. 

Dix.  Then  how  do  you  think  that  those  things  which  have  a 
first  and  a  proximate  cause  and  principle  can  be  really  known, 
if  their  efficient  cause  (which  is  one^of  the  things  which  contribute 
to  the  true  cognition  of  things)  is  hidden? 

Theo.  I  grant  you  that  it  is  easy  to  set  forth  the  theory  of  proof, 
but  the  proof  itself  is  difficult.  It  is  very  practicable  to  set  forth 
the  causes,  circumstances,  and  methods  of  sciences;  but  after- 
ward our  method-makers  and  analytical  scholars  can  use  but 
awkwardly  their  organum,  the  principles  of  their  methods,  and 
their  arts  of  arts. 

Gerv.  Like  those  who  know  how  to  make  fine  swords,  but  do 
not  know  how  to  use  them. 
*  Poly.  Aye,  aye.1 

Gerv.  May  your  eyes  be  closed  so  that  you  may  never  be  able 
to  open  them. 

Theo.  I  should  say,  then,  that  one  should  not  expect  the  natural 

to  Bruno.  The  central  thought  of  the  dialogue  does  not  lie,  again,  in  that  dis- 
tinction between  Cause  and  Principle  which  Bruno  here  advances  as  his  own. 
Rather  is  the  unity  of  the  universal  world-form,  and  of  the  world-soul,  the 
central  topic.  While  this  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  all  things,  and  of  the  imma- 
nence of  the  world-soul  and  of  the  world-form  in  every  being,  is  expounded 
in  this  dialogue  rather  as  an  intuition  than  as  a  demonstrable  assertion,  Bruno 
here  makes  prominent,  in  one  striku^  passage,  a  practical  motive -which  in  his 
own  mind  is  central.  The  individual  should  leam  so  10  view  iiinisel.,  and  to 
feel  himself  as  one  with  the  World-Soul,  that  the  individual  is  relieved  from 
all  fear  of  death.  What  is  valuable  about  any  being  is  that  it  expresses,  in  some 
accidental  and  possibly  transient  form,  the  one  meaning  which  is  equally  ex- 
pressed in  the  whole  world  and  in  every  part.  This  meaning  cannot  perish, 
is  divine,  and  is  ill  described  by  any  such  view  of  nature  as  Bruno  attributes 
to  the  Peripatetics.  Bruno's  method  in  this  dialogue  of  first  insisting  upon  dis- 
tinctions and  divisions,  and  then  showing  that  they  are  relative  and  of  partial 
significance  must  also  be  borne  in  mind  throughout.  With  this  Dialogue  like- 
wise read  chapter  ii,  part  ii,  of  J.  Lewis  Mclntyre's  Giordano  Bruno,  London, 
1903. 

1  In  the  original  the  play  upon  words  occurs  thus :  — 

Polinnio.     Ferm£ ! 

Gervasius.     Fermati  te  siano  gl'  occbi. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE      3 

philosopher  to  make  plain  all  causes  and  principles;  but  only 
the  physical,  and  only  the  principal  and  most  essential  of  these. 
And  although  these  depend  upon  the  first  cause  and  first  princi- 
ple, and  can  be  said  to  possess  such  a  cause  and  principle,  this 
is,  in  any  case,  not  such  a  necessary  relation  that  from  the  know- 
ledge of  the  one  the  knowledge  of  the  other  would  follow;  and 
therefore  one  should  not  expect  that  in  the  same  science  both 
should  be  set  forth. 

Dioc.  How  is  that? 

Theo.  Because  from  the  cognition  of  all  dependent  things,  we 
are  unable  to  infer  other  knowledge  of  first  cause  and  principle, 
than  by  the  somewhat  inefficacious  method  of  traces.  All  things 
are,  indeed,  derived  from  the  Creator's  will  or  goodness,  which 
is  the  principle  of  His  works,  and  from  which  proceeds  the  uni- 
versal effect.  The  same  consideration  arises  in  the  case  of  works 
of  art,  in  so  much  as  he  who  sees  the  statue  does  not  see  the 
sculptor;  he  who  sees  the  portrait  of  Helen  does  not  see  Apelles: 
but  he  sees  only  the  result  of  the  work  which  comes  from  the 
merit  and  genius  of  Apelles.  This  work  is  entirely  an  effect 
of  the  accidents  and  circumstances  of  the  substance  of  that 
man,  who,  as  to  his  absolute  essence,  is  not  in  the  least  known. 

Dioc.  So  that  to  know  the  universe  is  like  knowing  nothing  of 
the  being  and  substance  of  the  first  principle,  because  it  is  like 
knowing  the  accidents  of  the  accidents. 

Theo.  Exactly,  but  I  would  not  have  you  imagine  that  I  mean 
that  in  God  himself  there  are  Accidents,  or  that  He  could  be 
known,  as  it  were,  by  His  Accidents. 

Dioc.  I  do  not  attribute  to  you  so  crude  a  thought,  and  I  know 
that  it  is  one  thing  to  say  that  the  things  extraneous  to  the  divine 
nature  are  accidents,  another  thing  to  say  that  they  are  His 
Accidents,  and  yet  another  thing  to  say  that  they  are,  as  it 
were.  His  Accidents:  By  the  last  way  of  speaking  I  believe  you 
mean  that  they  are  the  effects  of  the  divine  activity;  but  that 
these  effects,  in  so  far  as  they  may  be  the  substance  of  things, 
and  even  the  natural  substances  themselves,  in  any  case  are,  as  it 
were,  the  remotest  accidents  whereby  we  merely  touch  an  appre- 
hension of  the  divine  supernatural  essence. 


4  BRUNO 

Theo.  Well  said. 

Dix.  Behold,  then,  of  the  divine  substance,  as  well  because  it  is 
infinite  as  because  it  is  extremely  remote  from  its  effects  (while 
these  effects  are  the  furthest  boundary  of  the  source  gf  our 
reasoning  faculties),  we  can  know  nothing,  —  unless  through 
the  means  of  traces,  as  the  Platonists  say,  of  remote  effects,  as 
the  Peripatetic  philosophers  say,  of  the  dress  or  outer  covering, 
as  say  the  Cabalists,  of  the  mere  shoulders  and  back,  as  the  Tal- 
mudists  say,1  or  of  the  mirror,  the  shadow,  the  enigma,  as  the 
Apocalyptic  writers  say. 

Theo.  All  the  more  is  this  the  case  because  we  do  not  see 
perfectly  this  universe  whose  substance  and  principle  are  so  diffi- 
cult of  comprehension.  And  thus  it  follows  that  with  far  less 
ground  can  we  know  the  first  principle  and  cause  through  its 
effect,  than  Apelles  may  be  known  through  the  statue  he  has 
made.  For  the  statue  all  may  see  and  examine,  part  by  part;  but 
not  so  the  grand  and  infinite  effect  of  the  Divine  Power.  There- 
fore our  simile  should  be  understood  not  as  a  matter  of  close 
comparison. 

Dix.  Thus  it  is,  and  thus  I  understand  it. 

Theo.  It  would  be  well,  then,  to  abstain  from  speaking  of  so 
lofty  a  matter. 

Dix.  I  agree  to  that,  because  it  suffices,  morally  and  theologi- 
cally, to  know  the  first  principle  in  so  far  as  higher  spirits  have 
revealed  it,  and  divine  men  have  declared  it.  Beyond  this  point, 
not  only  whatever  Law  and  Theology  you  will,  but  also  all 
wise  philosophy  has  held  it  as  a  profane  and  turbulent  dispo- 
sition, to  rush  into  demanding  reasons  and  definitions  for  such 
things  as  are  above  the  sphere  of  our  intelligence. 

Theo.  Very  good :  but  these  do  not  deserve  blame  so  much  as 
those  deserve  praise  who  struggle  towards  the  knowledge  of  that 
cause  and  principle;  who  learn  its  grandeur  as  much  as  possi- 
ble by  allowing  the  eyes  of  their  well-regulated  minds  to  roam 
amongst  yonder  magnificent  stars,  —  those  luminous  bodies 
which  are  so  many  habitable  worlds,  vast  and  animate,  and  are 
most  excellent  deities.  These  seem,  and  are,  countless  worlds 

1  Cf.  Exodus  xxxiii,  18-23. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE      5 

not  unlike  that  which  contains  us.  It  is  impossible  that  these 
can  have  their  existence  of  themselves,  considering  that  they  are 
composite  and  dissoluble  (although  not  for  that  reason  do  they 
deserve  annihilation,  as  has  been  well  said  in  the  Timaeus).  «It 
is  needful  that  they  should  know  their  principle  and  cause ;  and 
consequently  with  the  grandeur  of  their  existence,  of  their  life 
and  of  their  works,  they  show  and  set  forth,  in  infinite  space, 
with  innumerable  voices  the  infinite  excellence  and  majesty  of 
their  first  principle  and  cause. l  Leaving  then  (as  you  say)  those 
considerations  in  so  far  as  they  are  superior  to  all  sense  and  in- 
tellect, we  will  consider  that  principle  and  cause  in  so  far  as,  in 
its  traces,  it  either,  is  identical  with  nature  itself,  or  lies  revealed 
to  us  in  the  extent  and  in  the  lap  of  nature.  Question  me,  then, 
in  order,  if  you  wish  me  to  answer  you  in  order. 

Dix.  I  will  do  so.  But  first,  since  you  constantly  speak  of 
Cause  and  Principle,  I  should  like  to  know  whether  those  are 
used  by  you  as  synonymous  words? 

Theo.  No. 

Dix.  Then  what  difference  is  there  between  the  one  and  the 
other  term? 

Theo.  I  answer  that  when  we  speak  of  God  as  first  principle 
and  first  cause,  we  mean  one  and  the  same  thing  but  from  differ- . 
ent  points  of  view;  when  we  speak  of  principles  and  causes  in 
Nature,  we  speak  of  different  things  from  different  points  of 
view.  We  speak  of  God  as  the  first  principle  inasmuch  as  all 
things  come  only  after  Him  in  an  ordered  rank  of  before  and 
after,  either  according  to  their  nature,  or  according  to  their  dura- 
tion, or  according  to  their  value.  We  call  God  the  first  cause,  in 
so  far  as  all  things  are  distinct  from  Him,  as  the  effect  from  the 
efficient,  the  thing  produced  from  that  which  produced  it.  And 
these  two  points  of  view  are  different,  because  not  everything 
which  comes  first  and  is  of  more  value  is  the  cause  of  that  which 
comes  later  and  is  of  less  value;  and  not  everything  which  is 

1  Cf.  the  well-known  words  of  the  hymn: 

To  reason's  ear  they  all  proclaim 
The  glories  of  their  Maker's  name, 
Forever  singing  as  they  shine, 
The  Hand  that  made  us  is  divine. 


6  BRUNO 

the  cause  is  prior  to  and  of  more  worth  than  that  which  is  caused, 
as  will  be  plain  to  him  who  reflects  carefully. 

Dix.  Then  tell  me,  in  speaking  of  natural  things,  what  is  the 
difference  Between  cause  and  principle  ? 

Theo.  Although  at  times  the  one  term  is  used  in  place  of  the 
other,  nevertheless,  properly  speaking,  not  everything  which  is  a 
principle  is  a  cause,  because  a  point  is  the  principle  of  a  line, 
but  it  is  not  the  cause  of  the  line;  trie  instant  is  the  principle  of 
temporal  activity,  the  place  whence  is  the  principle  of  the  mo- 
tion, the  premises  are  the  principle  of  the  argument,  but  they 
are  not  the  cause.  Therefore  principle  is  a  more  general  term 
than  cause. 

Dix.  Then  restricting  these  two  terms  to  certain  special  sig- 
nifications, according  to  the  custom  of  those  who  reform  their 
terminology,  I  believe  you  to  mean  that  Principle  is  that  which 
intrinsically  brings  to  pass  the  constitution  of  things,  and 
which  remains  in  what  it  has  produced.  Thus,  for  instance, 
matter  and  form  remain  in  their  composite;  or  again,  the  ele- 
ments of  which  things  have  been  composed,  and  into  which  they 
tend  to  resolve  themselves  again,  are  principles.  You  call  Cause 
that  which  operates  from  without  in  the  production  of  things, 
and  which  has  its  being  outside  of  the  things  produced,  as  is  the 
case  with  the  efficient  cause,  and  the  end  for  which  the  thing 
produced  is  ordained. 

Theo.  Very  good. 

Dix.  Since,  then,  we  have  come  to  an  understanding  concern- 
ing the  difference  between  those  things,  I  wish  you  to  devote 
your  attention  first  to  the  Causes  and  then  to  the  Principles.  And 
as  to  the  Causes,  I  desire  first  to  know  about  the  first  efficient 
cause,  about  the  formal  cause,  which  you  say  is  conjoined  to  the 
efficient;  and,  lastly,  about  the  final  cause,  which  is  understood 
to  be  the  power  which  moves  this. 

Theo.  The  order  of  discourse  which  you  propose  pleases  me 
much.  Now  as  to  the  efficient  cause :  I  assert  that  the  universal 
physical  efficient  cause  is  the  universal  Intellect,  which  is  the 
first  and  principal  faculty  of  the  world-soul  and  which  is  the 
universal  form  of  the  Cosmos. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE      7 

Dix.  Your  thought  appears  to  me  to  be  not  only  in  agreement 
with  that  of  Empedocles,  but  more  certain,  more  distinct,  and 
more  explicit,  and  also  (in  so  far  as  I  can  see  from  the  above) 
more  profound :  yet  you  will  give  me  pleasure  if  you  will  explain 
the  whole  more  in  detail,  beginning  by  informing  me  just  what 
is  that  universal  intellect. 

Theo.  The  universal  intellect  is  the  most  intimate,  real,  and 
essential  faculty  and  effective  part  of  the  world- soul.  This  is 
one  and  the  same  thing  which  fills  the  whole,  illumines  the 
universe  and  directs  nature  to  produce  the  various  species  as  is 
fitting,  and  has  the  same  relation  to  the  production  of  natural 
things  as  our  intellect  to  the  parallel  production  of  our  general 
ideas.1  This  is  called  by  the  Pythagoreans  the  moving  spirit 
and  propelling  power  of  the  universe;  as  saith  the  poet,  "To- 
tamque  infusa  per  artus,  mens  agitat  molem,  et  toto  se  corpore 
miscet."  2  This  is  called  by  the  Platonic  philosophers  the  world- 
builder.  This  builder  (they  say)  proceeds  from  the  higher  world 
(which  is,  in  fact,  one)  to  this  world  of  sense,  which  is  divided 
into  many,  and  in  which  not  only  harmony  but  also  discord 
reigns,  because  it  is  sundered  into  parts.  This  intellect,  infusing 
and  extending  something  of  its  own  into  matter,  restful  and 
moveless  in  itself,  produces  all  things.  By  the  Magi  this  intelli- 
gence is  called  most  fruitful  of  seeds,  or  even  the  seed-sower, 
since  it  is  He  who  impregnates  matter  with  all  its  forms,  and 
according  to  the  type  and  condition  of  these  succeeds  in  shap- 
ing, forming,  and  arranging  all  in  such  admirable  order,  as 
cannot  be  attributed  to  chance,  or  to  any  principle  which  cannot 
consciously  distinguish  or  arrange.  Orpheus  calls  this  Intellect 
the  eye  of  the  world,  because  it  sees  all  natural  objects,  both 
within  and  without,  in  order  that  all  things  may  succeed  in 
producing  and  maintaining  themselves  in  their  proper  sym- 

1  The  reference  is  to  a  well-known  scholastic  parallel  of  the  universals  present 
in  things  and  the  universals  present  in  our  minds  when  we  form  our  ideas  of 
natural  classes.    The  universal  Intellect  is  related  to  the  production  of  natural 
forms,  or  species,  as  our  mind  is  related  to  the  production  of  our  ideas  of  these 
species. 

2  Infused  through  the  members,  mind  vitalizes  the  whole  mass  and  is  mingled 
with  the  whole  body. 


8  BRUNO 

metry,  not  only  intrinsically  but  also  extrinsically.  By  Em- 
pedocles  it  is  called  the  Distinguisher,  since  it  never  wearies  of 
unfolding  the  confused  forms  within  the  breast  of  matter  or  of 
calling  forth  the  birth  of  one  thing  from  the  corruption  of  an- 
other. Plotinus  calls  it  the  father  and  progenitor,  because  it 
distributes  seeds  throughout  the  field  of  nature,  and  is  the  proxi- 
mate dispenser  of  forms.  By  us  this  Intellect  is  called  the  inner 
artificer,  because  it  forms  and  shapes  material  objects  from 
within,  as  from  within  the  seed  or  the  root  is  sent  forth  and 
unfolded  the  trunk,  from  within  the  trunk  are  put  forth  the 
branches,  from  within  the  branches  the  finished  twigs,  and  from 
within  the  twigs  unfurl  the  buds,  and  there  within  are  woven 
like  nerves,  leaves,  flowers  and  fruits;  and  inversely,  at  certain 
times  the  sap  is  recalled  from  the  flowers  and  fruits  to  the  twigs, 
from  the  twigs  to  the  branches,  from  the  branches  to  the  trunk, 
and  from  the  trunk  to  the  root.  Just  so  it  is  with  animals;  its 
work  proceeding  from  the  original  seed,  and  from  the  centre 
of  the  heart,  to  the  external  members,  and  from  these  finally 
gathering  back  to  the  heart  the  unfolded  powers,  it  behaves  as  if 
again  knotting  together  spun-out  threads.  Now,  since  we  believe 
that  even  inanimate  works,  such  as  we  know  how  to  produce  with 
a  certain  order,  imitatively  working  on  the  surface  of  matter,  are 
not  produced  without  forethought  and  mind,  —  as  when,  cutting 
and  sculpturing  a  piece  of  wood,  we  bring  forth  the  effigy  of  a 
horse :  how  much  greater  must  we  believe  is  that  creative  intel- 
ligence which,  from  the  interior  of  the  germinal  matter,  brings 
forth  the  bones,  extends  the  cartilage,  hollows  out  the  arteries, 
breathes  into  the  pores,  weaves  the  fibres,  forms  the  branching 
nerves,  and  with  such  admirable  mastery  arranges  the  whole? 
I  say,  how  much  greater  an  artificer  is  He  who  is  not  restricted 
to  one  sole  part  of  the  material  world,  but  operates  continually 
throughout  the  whole.  There  are  three  sorts  of  intelligence; 
the  divine,  which  is  all  things,  the  mundane  which  makes  all 
things,  and  the  other  kinds  of  spirits  which  become  everything. 
For  it  is  needful  that  between  the  extremes  the  means  should  be 
found,  which  is  the  true  efficient  cause,  not  so  much  extrinsic  as 
even  intrinsic,  of  all  natural  things. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE     9 

Dioc.  I  should  like  to  see  you  distinguish,  as  you  understand 
them,  extrinsic  cause  and  intrinsic  cause. 

Theo.  I  call  a  cause  extrinsic  when  as  an  efficient  it  does  not 
form  a  part  of  the  things  compounded  and  produced.  I  call  a 
cause  intrinsic  in  so  far  as  it  does  not  operate  around  and  out- 
side of  objects,  but  in  the  manner  just  explained.  Hence  a  cause 
is  extrinsic  by  being  distinct  from  tWfe  substance  and  essence  of 
its  effects,  and  therefore  its  existence  is  not  like  that  of  things 
that  are  generated  and  decay,  although  it  embraces  such  things. 
A  cause  is  intrinsic  with  respect  to  the  actuality  of  its  own  work- 
ings. 

Dix.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  talked  enough  about  the 
efficient  cause.  Now  I  should  like  to  know  what  sort  of  thing  you 
take  to  be  the  formal  cause  joined  to  the  efficient  cause;  is  it  per- 
haps the  ideal  ground  ?  Because  every  agent  that  works  accord- 
ing to  the  rule  of  intelligence  will  be  unable  to  produce  effects 
unless  according  to  some  intention,  and  that  intention  is  not  with- 
out the  apprehension  of  something;  and  that  is  no  other  than 
the  form  of  the  thing  to  be  produced.  And  thus  also  with  that 
intellect  which  has  the  power  to  produce  all  species,  and  to  send 
them  forth  with  such  beautiful  construction  from  the  potentiality 
of  matter  into  actual  existence,  it  must  be  that  that  intelligence 
fore-knows  all,  according  to  certain  formal  principles,  without 
which  it  could  not  proceed  to  make  these  things,  just  as  it  is  im- 
possible for  the  sculptor  to  execute  diverse  statues  without  having 
first  thought  out  diverse  forms. 

Theo.  You  understand  this  excellently  well:    since  I  desire       • 
that  two  sorts  of  form  should  be  considered. 1  One  which  is  the  ^r 
cause,  not  exactly  the  efficient  cause,  but  that  through  which  the 
efficient  cause  produces  its  effects.    The  other  is  the  principle, 
which  by  the  efficient  is  called  forth  from  matter. 

Dix.  The  aim,  and  the  final  cause  for  which  the  efficient  is 
working,  is  the  perfection  of  the  universe,  which  implies  that  in 

1  The  thought  is  that  the  intelligence  is  guided  in  each  of  its  productions  by 
the  model  which  some  ideal  species  sets  before  it  —  that  is,  by  the  form  or  ideal 
type  of  some  class  of  objects.  Meanwhile,  the  intellect  is  also  guided  by  the 
great  final  cause,  — the  perfection  of  the  universe.  Thus  two  types  of  formal 
causes  are  distinguished,  both  from  each  other  and  from  the  efficient  cause. 


io  BRUNO 

diverse  portions  of  matter  all  forms  are  actually  existent.  In 
this  end  the  intellect  takes  such  great  pleasure  and  delight  that 
it  never  wearies  of  calling  forth  all  sorts  of  forms  from  matter, 
as  it  appears  that  Empedocles  also  would  have  it. 

Theo.  Very  well.  Now  I  add  to  this  that  just  as  this  efficient 
cause  is  omnipresent  in  the  universe,  and  is  special  and  particu- 
lar in  the  parts  and  members  thereof,  just  so  its  form  and  its 
purpose. 

Dix.  Now,  enough  has  been  said  about  causes;  let  us  proceed 
to  the  discussion  of  principles. 

Theo.  In  order,  then,  to  get  at  the  constitutive  principles  of 
things,  I  will  next  discuss  form.  For  this  is  in  some  sort  the 
same  as  the  aforesaid  efficient  cause ;  since  the  intelligence  which 
is  a  power  of  the  world- soul  has  been  called  the  proximate  effi- 
cient cause  of  all  natural  things. 

Dioc.  But  how  can  the  same  subject  be  at  once  principle  and 
cause  of  natural  things?  How  can  it  have  the  definition  of  an 
intrinsic  part  instead  of  an  extrinsic  part? 

Theo.  I  declare  that  this  is  not  incongruous,'  considering  that 
the  soul  is  within  the  body  as  the  pilot  is  within  the  ship.  And 
the  pilot,  in  so  far  as  he  shares  the  motion  of  the  ship,  is  a  part 
of  it.  Yet  considered  in  so  far  as  he  guides  and  moves  it,  he  is  not 
regarded  as  a  part,  but  as  a  distinct  efficient  cause.  Just  so  the 
soul  of  the  universe,  in  so  far  as  it  animates  and  informs  things, 
is  an  intrinsic  and  formal  part  of  that  universe.  But  in  so  far  as 
it  directs  and  governs,  it  is  not  a  part,  it  does  not  rank  as  a  prin- 
ciple, but  as  a  cause.  Aristotle  himself  grants  this,  who,  never- 
theless, denies  that  the  soul  has  that  relation  to  the  body  which 
the  steersman  has  to  the  ship:  yet  considering  it  with  regard  to 
that  power  which  thinks  and  knows,  he  does  not  dare  to  call  it  a 
perfection  and  form  of  the  body;  but  he  considers  it  as  an  efficient 
cause,  separate  in  essence  from  matter.  He  says  that  that  is  a 
thing  which  comes  from  without,  self- existent  and  separated 
from  the  composite. 

Dix.  I  approve  what  you  say,  because  if  that  existence  sepa- 
rate from  the  body  belongs  to  the  intellectual  powers  of  our  minds, 
and  if  this  intellectual  power  has  the  value  of  an  efficient  cause, 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE     n 

much  more  should  the  same  be  affirmed  concerning  the  Soul  of 
the  World.  Because  Plotinus  says,  writing  against  the  Gnostics, 
that  the  Universal  Soul  rules  the  universe  with  much  greater  ease 
than  our  souls  rule  our  bodies.  Besides  there  is  a  great  difference 
in  the  way  in  which  the  one  and  the  other  rules.  The  World- 
Soul,  as  if  unbound,  rules  the  world  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  not 
hampered  by  that  which  it  controls,  and  does  not  suffer  from, 
nor  with  other  things.  It  rises  without  effort  to  lofty  things. 
In  giving  life  and  perfection  to  the  body,  it  does  not  itself  take 
any  taint  of  imperfection  from  that  body;  and  therefore  it  is 
eternally  conjoined  with  the  same  subject.  The  human  soul  is 
manifestly  in  quite  the  contrary  condition.  Since  then,  according 
to  your  principles,  the  perfections  which  exist  in  our  inferior 
natures,  in  a  far  higher  degree  should  be  attributed  to,  and  per- 
ceived in,  superior  natures,  we  ought  doubtless  to  confirm  the 
distinction  which  you  have  brought  out.  But  we  must  recognize 
this  not  only  in  the  Soul  of  the  world,  but  also  in  every  star. 
For  it  is  the  case  (as  the  aforesaid  philosopher  holds),  that  they 
all  have  the  power  of  contemplating  God,  the  principles  (sources) 
of  all  things  and  the  arrangement  of  all  parts  of  the  universe.  He 
does  not  indeed  think  that  this  takes  place  through  memory, 
reasoning,  and  consideration;  because  each  of  their  works  is  an 
eternal  work,  and  there  is  no  action  which  can  be  new  to  them, 
and  therefore  they  do  nothing  which  is  not  fitting  to  the  whole, 
perfect,  and  with  a  certain  and  preordained  order,  and  they 
accomplish  all  without  an  act  of  consideration.  Aristotle  shows 
-this  by  using  the  example  of  a  perfect  writer,  or  zither- player. 
While  in  this  case  nature  does  not  reason  or  reflect,  he  does  not 
wish  it  to  be  concluded  that  she  works  without  intelligence  and 
final  intention  j  because  exquisite  writers  and  musicians  pay  less 
attention  to  what  they  are  doing,  and  yet  do  not  blunder  like  the 
inexpert  and  clumsy,  who  while  thinking  and  attending  more, 
yet  accomplish  their  work  less  perfectly,  and  not  without  blun- 
ders. 

Theo.  You  understand  me.  Let  us  now  pass  on  to  the  more  spe- 
cial. It  seems  to  me  that  they  detract  from  the  divine  goodness 
and  from  the  excellence  of  that  great  soul  and  simulacrum  of  the 


n  BRUNO 

first  principle,  who  will  not  understand  nor  affirm  that  the  world 
with  all  its  members  is  animate.  How  should  God  be  envious 
of  his  image,  or  how  should  the  architect  not  love  his  own  indi- 
vidual work,  of  whom  Plato  says  that  he  takes  pleasure  in  his 
work  because  of  his  own  similitude  which  he  admires  in  it.  And 
truly,  what  more  beautiful  than  this  universe  could  be  presented 
to  the  eyes  of  the  Deity?  And  it  being  the  case  that  this  consists 
of  its  parts,  to  which  of  these  should  more  be  imparted  than  to 
the  formal  principle  ?  I  will  leave  for  a  better  and  more  particu- 
lar discourse  a  thousand  natural  reasons  beyond  this  topical  or 
logical  one. 

Dix.  I  do  not  care  to  have  you  exert  yourself  in  that  direction^ 
considering  that  there  is  no  philosopher  of  any  reputation,  even 
among  the  Peripatetics,  who  does  not  hold  that  the  Universe 
and  its  spheres  are  in  some  way  animated.  I  should  now  be  glad 
to  know  in  what  manner  you  hold  that  this  form  makes  its  way 
into  the  material  of  the  universe? 

Theo.  It  joins  itself  to  it  in  such  a  manner  that  corporeal 
nature,  which  in  itself  is  not  beautiful,  in  so  far  as  it  is  capable 
of  it,  shares  the  beauty  of  the  soul,  since  there  is  no  beauty  which 
does  not  consist  of  some  figure  or  form,  and  no  form  which  has 
not  been  produced  by  a  soul. 

Dix.  I  seem  to  be  hearing  an  entirely  new  thing.  You  hold 
perhaps  that  not  only  the  form  of  the  Universe,  but  all  forms  of 
natural  objects  are  souls? 

Theo.  Yes. 

Dix.  Have  all  things,  then,  souls? 

Theo.  Yes. 

Dix.  But  who  will  grant  you  this? 

Theo.  But  who  with  reason  will  be  able  to  gainsay  it  ? 

Dix.  According  to  common  sense,  not  all  things  are  alive. 

Theo.  The  commonest  sense  is  not  the  truest. 

Dix.  I  easily  believe  that  that  can  be  defended.  But  the  fact 
that  a  thing  can  be  defended  does  not  suffice  to  make  it  true; 
considering  that  it  also  must  be  proved. 

Theo.  That  is  not  difficult.  Are  there  not  philosophers  who 
say  that  the  world  has  a  soul  ? 


OF  CAUSE,   PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE     13 

Dix.  There  surely  are  many,  and  very  notable  ones. 

Theo.  Then  why  do  not  the  same  philosophers  say  that  all  the 
parts  of  the  world  have  souls? 

Dix.  They  surely  do  say  that,  but  only  concerning  the  most 
important  parts,  and  those  which  are  true  parts  of  the  world. 
Since  with  no  less  ground  they  hold  that  the  soul  is  no  less  omni- 
present throughout  the  world  and  in  every  conceivable  part  of  it, 
than  the  souls  of  living  beings  perceptible  to  us  are  completely 
present  throughout  them. 

Theo.  Then  what  things  do  you  think  are  not  true  parts  of  the 
Universe  ? 

Dix.  Those  that  are  not  what  the  Peripatetics  call  primal 
bodies,  such  as  the  earth,  together  with  the  waters  and  other  parts, 
which,  according  to  your  statement,  constitute  the  complete 
animate  organism;  or  such  as  the  moon,  the  sun,  and  other  heav- 
enly bodies.  Beside  these  principal  animate  organisms  there  are 
those  which  are  not  primary  parts  of  the  universe,  of  which  some 
are  said  to  have  a  vegetative  soul,  some  a  sensitive  soul,  others 
an  intellectual  soul. 

Theo.  Yet,  if  accordingly  the  soul  which  is  in  everything,  is 
also  in  the  parts  of  everything,  why  do  you  not  hold  that  it  is  in 
the  parts  of  the  parts? 

Dix.  It  may  be,  but  in  the  parts  of  the  parts  of  animate  things. 

Theo.  Now  what  things  are  there  which  are  not  animate,  or 
are  not  parts  of  animate  things? 

Dix.  Does  it  seem  to  you  that  we  have  so  few  such  things 
before  our  eyes?  All  things  which  have  not  life. 

Theo.  And  what  are  the  things  that  have  not  life,  at  least  the 
vital  principle? 

Dix.  To  come  to  an  understanding,  do  you  hold  that  there 
may  be  any  things  which  may  not  have  soul  and  which  may 
not  have  the  vital  principle? 

Theo.  That,  in  fine,  is  what  I  hold. 

Pol.  Then  a  lifeless  body  has  a  soul?  Then  my  shoes,  my 
slippers,  my  boots,  my  spurs,  my  ring  and  my  gloves  have  souls  ? 
My  coat  and  mantle  have  souls? 

Gerv.  Yes,  sir;  yes,  Master  Polyhymnius,  why  not?    I  well 


i4  BRUNO 

believe  that  your  coat  and  mantle  are  thoroughly  animated 
when  they  have  such  an  animal  as  you  inside  them.  The  boots 
and  spurs  are  animated  when  they  contain  the  feet,  the  hat  is 
animated  when  it  contains  the  head,  which  latter  is  not  without 
a  soul,  and  the  stall  is  animated  when  it  contains  the  horse,  the 
mule,  or  even  your  lordship.  Do  you  not  think  so,  Theophilus  ? 
Does  it  not  seem  to  you  that  I  have  understood  better  than  the 
dominus  magister? 

Pol.  Cujum  pecus  (whose  cattle)  ?  As  if  there  were  not  asses 
who  are  subtle  with  etiam  atque  etiam  (also  and  also).  How 
dare  you,  you  trifler,  you  a-b-c-darian,  compare  yourself  with  a 
head-teacher  and  guide  of  the  school  of  Minerva  like  me? 

Gerv.1  Pax  vobis  domine  magister,  servus  servorum,  et  scabel- 
lum  pedum  tuorum. 

Pol.  Maledicat  te  Deus  in  saecula  saeculorum. 

Dix.  No  quarreling !  Let  these  matters  be  settled  by  us. 

Pol.2  Prosequatur  ergo  sua  dogmata  Theophilus. 

Theo.  I  will  do  so.  I  say,  then,  that  the  table  as  a  table  is 
not  animate,  nor  the  garments,  nor  the  leather  as  leather,  nor 
the  glass  as  glass,  but  as  natural  things  and  composites  they 
have  within  themselves  matter  and  form.  Let  a  thing  be  even 
as  small  and  tiny  as  you  will,  it  has  within  itself  some  portion 
of  spiritual  substance,  which,  if  it  finds  a  fitting  vehicle,  unfolds 
itself  so  as  to  become  a  plant,  or  an  animal,  and  receives  the 
members  of  whatsoever  body  you  will,  such  as  is  commonly 
said  to  be  animated,  because  spirit  is  found  in  all  things,  and 
there  is  not  the  least  corpuscle  which  does  not  contain  within 
itself  some  portion  that  may  become  living. 

Pol.s  Ergo  quidquid  est  animal  est. 

Theo.  Not  all  things  which  have  soul  are  called  animate. 

Dix.  Then,  at  least,  all  things  have  life? 

Theo.  I  grant  that  all  things  contain  within  themselves  a 
soul  and  have  the  essentials  of  life.  I  do  not  assert  that  all  things 

1  Gerv.  Peace  be  with  you,  lord  and  master,  I  am  the  servant  of  your  ser- 
vants, and  the  footstool  for  your  feet. 

Pol.  The  Lord  curse  you,  world  without  end. 

2  Pol.  Then  let  Theophilus  continue  his  teaching. 

3  Therefore,  whatever  is,  is  animate. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE     15 

are  actually  and  recognizably  alive,  as  would  be  required  by  all 
the  Peripatetics,  and  by  those  who  define  life  and  soul  in  terms 
of  principles  that  are  too  gross. 

Dix.  You  show  me  the  seemingly  true  way  in  which  the  opin- 
ion of  Anaxagoras  may  be  maintained,  who  held  that  all  things 
are  in  all  things.  For  since  spirit,  or  soul,  or  universal  form, 
exists  in  all  things,  all  may  be  produced  from  all. 

Theo.  I  do  not  say  seemingly  true,  but  true.  For  spirit  is 
found  in  all  things,  those  which  are  not  living  creatures  are 
still  vitalized,  if  not  according  to  the  perceptible  presence  of 
animation  and  life,  yet  they  are  animate  according  to  the  prin- 
ciple and,  as  it  were,  primal  being  of  animation  and  life.  And 
I  cannot  say  more,  because  I  will  pass  over  the  properties  of 
many  stones  and  gems,  which  being  broken,  and  recut  and 
arranged  in  disordered  fragments,  have  a  certain  virtue,  in 
altering  the  mind  and  engendering  new  affections  and  passions 
in  the  soul,  and  not  only  in  the  body.  And  we  know  that  such 
effects  do  not  proceed,  nor  can  they  come  from  purely  material 
qualities;  but  they  must  necessarily  be  referred  to  a  principle, 
as  it  were,  vital.1  Furthermore,  we  perceive  this  very  sensibly 
in  case  of  withered  plants  and  roots,  which  purifying  and  col- 
lecting humors,  alter  the  states  of  minds  and  show  unmistak- 
ably vital  influences.  \  I  will  grant  that  not  without  reason  the 
necromancers  hope  to  accomplish  many  things  by  means  of 
the  bones  of  the  dead,  and  they  believe  that  those  bones  retain, 
if  not  the  very  same,  yet  such  a  sort  of  vital  activity  as  may 
become  useful  in  producing  remarkable  effects.  On  other  occa- 
sions I  shall  be  able  to  discuss  more  at  length  the  mind,  the  spirit, 
the  soul,  the  life,  which  penetrates  all,  is  in  all,  and  moves  all 
matter,  fills  the  lap  of  that  matter  and  dominates  it  rather  than 
is  dominated  by  it.  For  the  spiritual  substance  cannot  be  over- 
powered by  the  material,  but  rather  embraces  it. 

Dix.  That  appears  to  me  to  conform  not  only  to  the  sense 
of  Pythagoras,  whose  opinion  the  Poet  rehearses  when  he  says,  — 

Principio  caelum  ac  terras  camposque  liquentes, 
Lucentemque  globum  lunae  Titaniaque  astra 


i6  BRUNO 

Spiritus  intus  alit,  totamque  infusa  per  artus 
Mens  agitat  molem,  totoque  se  corpore  miscet,1 

but  also  it  conforms  to  the  Theologian  who  says,  "The  spirit 
rules  over  and  fills  the  earth,  and  that  it  is  which  contains  all 
things."  And  another,  speaking  perchance  of  the  dealings  of 
form  with  matter  and  with  potentiality,  says  that  the  latter  is 
dominated  by  actuality  and  by  form. 

Theo.  If  then,  spirit,  mind,  life,  is  found  in  all  things,  and  in 
various  degrees  fills  all  matter,  it  must  certainly  follow,  that  it 
is  the  true  actuality,  and  the  true  form  of  all  things.  The  soul 
of  the  world,  then,  is  the  formal,  constitutive  principle  of  the 
universe,  and  of  that  which  is  contained  within  it.  I  say  that  if 
life  is  found  in  all  things,  the  soul  must  be  the  form  of  all  things; 
that  which  through  everything  presides  over  matter,  holds  sway 
over  composite  things,  effects  the  composition  and  consistency 
of  their  parts.  And  therefore  such  form  is  no  less  enduring  than 
matter.  This  I  understand  to  be  One  in  all  things,  which,  how- 
ever, according  to  the  diversity  of  the  disposition  of  matter, 
and  according  to  the  power  of  the  material  principle,  both 
active  and  passive,  comes  to  produce  diverse  configurations, 
and  to  effect  different  faculties,  sometimes  showing  the  effects 
of  life  without  sense,  sometimes  the  effects  of  life  and  sensation 
without  intellect,  and  sometimes  it  appears  that  all  the  faculties 
are  suppressed  or  repressed  either  by  weakness,  or  by  other 
conditions  of  matter.  While  this  form  thus  changes  place  and 
circumstance,  it  is  impossible  that  it  should  be  annulled;  because 
the  spiritual  substance  is  not  less  real  than  the  material.  Then 
only  external  forms  can  change  and  even  be  annulled,  because 
they  are  not  things,  but  of  things;  they  are  not  substances;  they 
are  accidents  and  circumstances. 

Pol.  Non  entia  sed  entium  (not  entities,  but  of  entities). 

Dix.  Surely,  if  any  substantial  thing  could  be  annulled,  the 
universe  would  become  empty. 

1  In  the  beginning  the  sky,  the  earth  and  the  fields  of  the  waters, 
Glistening  orb  of  the  moon,  and  also  the  radiant  sunlight, 
All  is  inspired  with  life,  and  trembling  through  every  member, 
Mind  vitalizes  the  mass,  and  with  the  whole  body  is  mingled. 

Virgil's  Mneid,  VI,  724  ff. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE     17 

Theo.  We  have  then  an  intrinsic  principle,  —  formal,  eternal, 
and  subsistent,  incomparably  better  than  that  which  the  Sophists 
have  imagined,  who  play  with  accidents,  ignorant  of  the  sub- 
stance of  things,  and  who  are  led  to  assume  corruptible  sub- 
stances because  they  call  chiefly,  primarily  and  principally  that 
substance  which  results  from  composition.  For  the  latter  is 
only  an  accident,  containing  within  itself  no  stability  and  truth, 
and  resolves  itself  into  nothing.  They  call  that  the  true  man 
which  results  from  composition;  they  call  that  the  true  soul 
which  is  either  the  perfection  of  a  living  body,  or  at  least  a  thing 
which  results  from  a  certain  sympathy  of  complexion  and  mem- 
bers. Therefore,  it  is  not  strange  that  they  do  so  much  and  so 
greatly  fear  death  and  dissolution;  as  those  for  whom  ruin  of 
their  being  is  imminent.  Against  this  madness  nature  cries  out 
with  a  loud  voice,  assuring  us  that  neither  bodies  nor  souls 
should  fear  death,  since  both  matter  and  form  are  absolutely 
constant  principles. 

O  genus  attonitum  gelidae  formidine  mortis, 
Quid  Styga,  quid  tenebras,  et  nomina  vana  timetis, 
Materiam  vatum,  f alsique  pericula  mundi  ? 
Corpora  sive  rogus  flamma,  seu  tabe  vetustas 
Abstulerit,  mala  posse  pati  non  ulla  potetis: 
Morte  carent  animae  semperque  priore  relicta 
Sede  novis  domibus  vivunt  habitantque  receptae. 
Omnia  mutantur,  nihil  intent.1 

Dix.  That  seems  to  me  to  agree  with  the  opinion  of  Solomon, 
esteemed  the  wisest  of  men  by  the  Hebrews.  Quid  est  quod  est  ? 
Ipsum  quod  fuit.  Quid  est  quod  juit?  Ipsum  quod  est.  Nihil 
sub  sole  novum?  So  that  that  form  which  you  assume  is  not 
existent  in  and  adherent  to  the  matter  according  to  its  being, 

1  Oh  race,  atremble  with  fear,  with  the  icy  terror  of  dying, 
Wherefore  dread  ye  the  Styx,  vain  names,  and  the  forms  of  the  shadows, 
Idle  subjects  for  poets,  and  dangers  of  worlds  that  exist  not? 
Whether  the  funeral  pile  shall  consume  our  bodies  with  fire, 

Or  old  age  wasting  away,  think  not  that  we  can  suffer  evil. 
Souls  are  not  subject  to  death,  but  former  dwellings  abandoned, 
Rise  to  a  shelter  eternal,  where  they  may  inhabit  forever. 
Thus  do  all  things  suffer  change,  but  nothing  ever  shall  perish. 

Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  Book  XV.* 

2  Eccles.  i,  9  (King  James'  Version) :  The  thing  which  hath  been,  it  is  that 


1 8  BRUNO 

does  not  depend  upon  the  body  and  upon  matter  in  order  that 
it  shall  subsist? 

Theo.  So  it  is.  And  furthermore,  I  do  not  decide  whether  all 
form  is  accompanied  by  matter.  Of  matter  I  already  dare  to 
say,  that  no  portion  of  it  is,  in  fact,  devoid  of  form;  unless  you 
define  form  in  a  purely  abstract  sense,  as  Aristotle  does.  For 
he  never  wearies  of  dividing  conceptually  those  things  which 
in  Nature  and  Truth  are  indivisible. 

Dix.  Do  you  not  hold  that  there  may  be  some  other  form  be- 
sides this  eternal  companion  of  matter? 

Theo.  Yes,  and  a  form  more  natural  still,  which  is  the  material 
form  of  which  we  shall  later  reason.  For  the  present,  note  this 
distinction  of  form.  There  is,  namely,  one  sort,  I  call  it  the 
primal  form,  which  informs,  is  extended,  and  is  dependent.  And 
since  this  informs  everything,  it  is  in  the  whole.  And  since  in 
the  whole  it  is  extended,  it  communicates  perfection  from  the 
whole  to  the  parts.  And  because  it  is  dependent  and  has  no 
activity  of  itself  alone,  it  communicates  the  activity  of  the  whole 
to  the  parts,  likewise  the  name  and  the  being.  Such  is  the  ma- 
terial form,  like  that  of  fire.  Because  every  part  of  the  fire  warms, 
it  is  called  fire,  and  is  fire.  Secondly,  there  is  another  sort  of 
form  which  informs  and  is  dependent;  but  it  is  not  extended, 
and  such  form,  because  it  makes  perfect  and  actuates  the  whole, 
is  in  the  whole  and  in  every  part  of  the  whole.  Because  it  is  not 
extended,  it  results  that  the  activity  of  the  whole  is  not  attributed 
to  the  parts.  Because  it  is  dependent,  the  activity  of  the  whole 
is  communicated  to  the  parts;  and  such  is  the  vegetative  and 
sensitive  soul,  because  no  part  of  the  animal  is  animal;  and, 
nevertheless,  every  part  lives  and  feels.  Third,  there  is  another 
sort  of  form,  which  actuates  and  perfects  the  whole;  but  it  is 
not  extended,  nor  is  it  dependent  as  to  its  operations.  This, 
because  it  actuates  and  makes  perfect,  is  in  the  whole,  and  in 
each  and  every  part.  Because  it  is  not  extended,  the  perfection 

which  shall  be.  And  that  which  is  done,  is  that  which  shall  be  done.  And  there 
is  no  new  thing  under  the  sun. 

The  Latin  Vulgate  version  reads:  Quid  est  quod  fuit  ?  ipsum  quod  juturum  est. 
Quid  est  quod  factum  est  ?  Ipsum  quod  faciendum  est. 

Nihil  sub  sole  novum! 


OF  CAUSE,   PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE    19 

of  the  whole  is  not  attributed  to  the  parts.  Because  it  is  not 
dependent,  it  does  not  communicate  the  activity  of  the  whole  to 
the  parts.  Such  is  the  soul,  in  so  far  as  it  can  exercise  intellectual 
powers,  and  is  called  the  intellective  soul,  which  does  not  form 
any  such  part  of  man,  that  it  can  be  called  man,  nor  is  it  man, 
nor  can  it  be  said  to  mean  this.  Of  these  three  sorts  of  form,  the 
first  is  material,  which  cannot  be  understood,  nor  can  it  exist, 
without  matter.  The  other  two  sorts  (which,  in  fact,  run  to- 
gether into  one  according  to  their  substance  and  their  being, 
and  are  distinguished  according  to  the  method  which  we  have 
designated  above)  make  up  that  formal  principle  which  is  dis- 
tinct from  the  material  principle.1 

Dix.  I  understand. 

Theo.  Further  than  this,  I  want  you  to  take  notice  that,  al- 
though in  common  parlance  we  say  that  there  are  five  grades  or 
kinds  of  form:  —  i.  e.,  the  Elemental,  the  Mixed,  the  Vegetative, 
the  Sensitive,  and  the  Intellective,  we  do  not,  however,  under- 
stand this  according  to  the  common  acceptation ;  because  that  dis- 
tinction is  valid  according  to  the  operations  which  appear  with  and 
proceed  from  the  particular  beings:  not  according  to  that  ground 
of  the  primary  and  fundamental  being  of  that  form  and  spiritual 
life  which  itself  fills  all  things,  and  not  in  the  same  manner.2 

1  The  substance  of  the  argument  is  this:   The  three  kinds  of  form  are  dis- 
tinguished with  respect  to  three  kinds  of  relations  between  whole  and  part, 
which  are  found  in  nature.    The  first  kind  of  relation  exists  when  a  whole  is 
such,  that  every  part  has  the  nature  and,  on  occasion,  the  name  of  the  whole. 
In  such  cases,  the  form  may  be  said  to  extend  itself  to  the  parts.   The  form  is 
here  a  conditioned  or  dependent  form,  —  i.  e.,  it  results  from  something  higher 
than  itself.    The  second  type  of  relation  of  whole  and  part  is  found  in  living 
objects,  which  are  not  intelligent,  —  that  is,  in  the  vegetative  and  sensitive  soul. 
Here  the  whole  has  a  character  which   does  not  belong  to  every  part,  yet  the 
nature  of  the  whole  pervades  the  parts,  although  not  spatially.    The  third  kind 
of  relation  of  whole  and  part  is  exemplified  by  the  Intellect,  say  in  case  of  the 
human  soul.    The  relation  is  here  the  one  which  Aristotle's  doctrine  had  de- 
scribed in  so  dark  a  manner.    According  to  our  text,  the  Intellect  pervades  the 
man,  for  its  perfection  is  communicated  to  e^pry  part  of  his  nature.   But  it  does 
not  pervade  him  by  extending  itself  spatially  through  him,  but  by  imparting  to 
every  part  of  him  its  meaning.    Furthermore,  it  does  not  make  every  part  of  him 
think.    For  it  is  not  itself  a  dependent  principle.   It  is  rather  that  which  makes 
the  whole  man  a  man,  while  nevertheless  itself,  it  is  not  either  a  man  or  a  part  of 
a  man. 

2  That  is,  the  foregoing  distinction  of  the  three  kinds  of  form  is  intended 


20  BRUNO 

Dix.  I  understand.  Inasmuch  as  this  form  which  you  hold 
to  be  the  principle  is  a  subsistent  form,  it  constitutes  a  perfect 
species,  is  of  its  own  genus,  and  is  not  part  of  a  species  like  that 
Peripatetic  form.1 

Theo.  So  it  is. 

Dix.  The  division  of  forms  in  matter  is  not  according  to  the 
accidental  dispositions  which  depend  upon  the  material  form. 

Theo.  True. 

Dix.  Hence  also  this  separate  form  is  not  multiplied  according 
to  number,  because  all  numerical  multiplication  depends  upon 
matter. 

Theo.  Yes. 

Dix.  Though  invariable  in  itself,  it  is  variable  through  par- 
ticular things  and  the  diversity  of  matter,  and  such  form,  although 
in  the  subject  it  makes  the  part  differ  from  the  whole,  yet  itself 
does  not  differ  in  the  part  and  in  the  whole;  although  one 
ground  suits  it  as  subsistent  by  itself,  and  another  in  so  far  as  it 
is  the  activity  and  completion  of  some  subject,  and  yet  another 
in  regard  to  a  subject  with  dispositions  of  one  sort,  and  another 
with  those  of  another. 

Theo.  Exactly  so. 

Dix.  This  form  is  not  to  be  understood  as  accidental,  nor  as 
like  the  accidental,  nor  as  being  mingled  with  matter,  nor  as 
being  inherent  in  matter:  but  indwelling,  associated,  assistent.2 

to  introduce  a  closer  connection  between  the  natural  forms  that  we  see,  and  that 
universal  World-form  or  life  which  Bruno  posits,  than  would  be  possible  if  one 
accepted  what  Bruno  calls  the  common  division  of  Forms  as  final.  For  this 
common  division  of  forms  depends  rather  upon  distinguishing  five  classes  of 
Natural  things,  than  upon  distinguishing  the  characteristic  types  of  relations  of 
whole  and  part. 

1  The  reference  is  now  once  more  to  the  universal  world-form,  which  forms 
no  part  of  any  one  natural  species. 

2  The  universal  form  is  subsistent, — i.  e.,  it  has  its  own  sundered  and   in- 
dependent  existence,  apart  from    its  infinitely  numerous  manifestations.    Yet 
with  equal  truth,  it  is  immanent  in  its  manifestations,  since  it  must  manifest 
itself  in  these  infinitely  numerous  forms.   According  as  you  take  it  in  itself,  or 
in  its  manifestations,  you  have  to  make  numerous    distinctions,  according  as 
you  treat  it,  now  as  manifested  by  this,  and  now  as  manifested  by  that  thing, 
now  as  thus  or  thus  related  to  the  whole  and  to  parts  of  various  things.   But  all 
such  distinctions  have  no  ultimate  meaning.  The  great  truth  is:  the  tnie  f™>™ 
is  One. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  Oi, 

Theo.  That  is  what  I  affirm. 

Dix.  Furthermore,  this  form  is  defined  and  determined  by 
matter,  because  it  has  in  itself  the  means  of  constituting  particular 
things  of  innumerable  species;  and  restricts  itself  to  constituting 
one  individual:  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  potentiality  of  inde- 
terminate matter,  which  may  receive  any  form  you  like,  finds  its 
completion  in  a  species;  so  that  the  one  is  the  cause  of  the  defi- 
nition and  determination  of  the  other. 

Theo.  Very  well. 

Dix.  Then  you  approve,  in  some  sort,  the  opinion  of  Anax- 
agoras  who  calls  the  particular  forms  of  Nature  latent,  and  in 
a  sense  that  of  Plato  who  deduces  them  from  ideas,  and  in  a  man- 
ner that  of  Empedocles  who  makes  them  proceed  from  intelli- 
gence, and  in  some  sort  that  of  Aristotle  who  makes  them,  as  it 
were,  issue  from  the  potentiality  of  matter? 

Theo.  Yes.  Because,  as  we  have  said,  where  there  is  form, 
there  is,  in  a  certain  manner,  everything.  Where  there  is  soul, 
spirit,  life,  there  is  everything,  for  the  creator  of  ideal  forms  and 
varieties  is  intellect.  And  even  if  it  does  not  obtain  forms  from 
matter,  it  nevertheless  does  not  go  begging  for  them  outside  of 
matter,  because  this  spirit  fills  the  whole. 

Pol.1  Velim  scire  quo  modo  forma  est  anima  mundi  ubique  iota, 
if  it  is  indivisible?  It  must,  then,  be  very  big,  even  of  infinite 
dimensions,  if  one  may  call  the  world  infinite. 

Gerv.  There  is  good*  ground  for  its  being  large,  as  also  a 
preacher  at  Grandazzo  in  Sicily  said  of  our  Lord:  where  as  a 
sign  that  He  is  present  through  the  whole  world,  he  ordered  a 
crucifix  as  big  as  the  church,  in  the  similitude  of  God  the  Father, 
who  has  the  Empyrean  heavens  for  a  canopy;  the  starry  heavens 
for  his  throne,  and  has  such  long  legs  that  they  reach  down  to  the 
earth,  which  serves  him  for  a  footstool.  To  him  came  a  certain 
peasant,  and  questioned  him  thus.  Reverend  father,  now  how 
many  ells  of  cloth  would  it  take  to  make  his  breeches?  And 
another  said  that  all  the  peas  and  beans  of  Melazzo  and  Nicosia 

1  Pol.  I  want  to  know  in  what  way  the  form  is  everywhere  the  whole  soul  of 
the  world,  if  it  is  indivisible. 


BRUNO 

juld  not  suffice  to  fill  his  stomach.   Look  to  it,  then,  that  this 
World-soul  is  not  made  after  such  a  fashion. 

Theo.  I  do  not  know  how  to  resolve  your  doubt,  Gervasius, 
but  perhaps  I  can  that  of  Master  Polyhymnius.  I  can,  however, 
to  satisfy  you  both,  give  you  a  comparison,  because  I  wish  you 
to  carry  away  some  fruits  of  our  reasoning  and  discourse.  Know, 
then,  in  brief,  that  the  Soul  of  the  World,  and  the  Divinity  are 
not  omnipresent  through  all  and  through  every  part,  in  the  way 
in  which  material  things  could  be  there:  because  this  is  impos- 
sible to  any  sort  of  body,  and  to  any  sort  of  spirit ;  but  in  a  man- 
ner which  is  not  easy  to  explain  to  you  if  not  in  this  way.  You 
should  take  notice  that  if  the  Soul  of  the  World  and  the  universal 
form  are  said  to  be  everywhere,  we  do  not  mean  corporeally  and 
dimensionally,  because  such  things  cannot  be;  and  just  so  they 
cannot  be  in  any  part.  But  they  are  spiritually  present  in  every- 
thing —  as,  for  example  (perhaps  a  rough  one),  you  can  imagine 
a  voice  which  is  throughout  a  whole  room  and  in  every  part  of 
the  room;  because,  through  all,  it  is  completely  heard:  just  as 
these  words  which  I  utter  are  heard  completely  by  all,  even  were 
there  a  thousand  present,  and  my  voice,  could  it  reach  through- 
out the  whole  world,  would  be  everywhere  through  everything. 
I  tell  you  then,  Master  Polyhymnius,  that  the  soul  is  not  indivisi- 
ble like  a  point,  but  in  some  sort  like  the  voice.  And  I  answer  you, 
Gervasius,  that  the  Divinity  is  not  everywhere  in  the  sense  that 
the  God  of  Grandazzo  was  in  the  whole  of  the  chapel,  because, 
although  he  was  present  throughout  the  church,  yet  all  of  him 
was  not  present  everywhere,  but  his  head  was  in  one  part,  his 
feet  in  another,  his  arms  and  his  chest  in  yet  other  parts.  But 
that  other  is  in  its  entirety  in  every  part,  as  my  voice  is  heard  com- 
pletely in  every  part  of  this  room. 

Pol.  Percepi  optime.1 

Gerv.  At  least  your  voice  I  have  heard. 

Dix.  I  well  believe  it  of  the  voice,  but  as  to  the  discourse,  I 
think  it  has  gone  in  at  one  ear  and  out  at  the  other. 

Gerv.  I  think  it  has  not  even  gone  in.   For  the  rest,  it  is  late, 
and  the  clock  in  my  stomach  has  struck  supper  time. 
1  I  perceived  that  perfectly. 


OF  CAUSE,  PRINCIPLE,  AND  THE  ONE     23 

Pol.  Hoc  est,  idest  to  have  your  brains  in  patinis.1 
Dioc.  Enough  then.  To-morrow  perhaps  we  may  meet  to  talk 
about  the  material  principle. 

Theo.  Either  I  will  expect  you,  or  you  may  expect  me  here. 

1  That  is  what  it  is  to  have  your  brains  in  your  platter. 


FRANCIS  BACON 

(1561-1626) 

NOVUM  ORGANUM* 

Translated^  from  the  Latin  by 
JAMES  SPEDDING 

APHORISMS    CONCERNING    THE    INTERPRE- 
TATION  OF   NATURE   AND  THE 
KINGDOM   OF    MAN 

"fHE  IDOLS'" 

i 

MAN,  being  the  servant  and  interpreter  of  nature,  can  do  and 
understand  so  much  and  so  much  only  as  he  has  observed  in 
fact  or  in  thought  of  the  course  of  nature:  beyond  this  he  neither 
knows  anything  nor  can  do  anything. 

ii 

Neither  the  naked  hand  nor  the  understanding  left  to  itself/ 
can  effect  much.  It  is  by  instruments  and  helps  that  the  work  is 
done,  which  are  as  much  wanted  for  the  understanding  as  for 
the  hand.  And  as  the  instruments  of  the  hand  either  give  motion 
or  guide  it,  so  the  instruments  of  the  mind  supply  either  sugges- 
tions for  the  understanding  or  cautions. 

in 

Human  knowledge  and  human  power  meet  in  one ;  for  where 
the  cause  is  not  known  the  effect  cannot  be  produced.  Nature 
to  be  commanded  must  be  obeyed;  and  that  which  in  contem- 
plation is  as  the  cause  is  in  operation  as  the  rule. 

*  From  The  Philosophical  Works  of  Francis  Bacon,  edited  by  Robert  Leslie 
Ellis  and  James  Spedding,  London,  1861,  vol.  iv. 

f  The  translation  was  originally  made  by  an  undergraduate  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  but  Spedding  is  responsible  for  the  form  which  it  finally 
assumed. 


NOVUM  ORGANUM 

IV 

Towards  the  affecting  of  works,  all  that  man  can  do  is  to  put 
together  or  put  asunder  natural  bodies.  The  rest  is  done  by 
nature  working  within. 

v 

The  study  of  nature  with  a  view  to  works  is  engaged  in  by  the 
mechanic,  the  mathematician,  the  physician,  the  alchemist,  and 
the  magician;  but  by  all  (as  things  now  are)  with  slight  endeavour 
and  scanty  success. 

VI 

It  would  be  an  unsound  fancy  and  self-contradictory  to  expect 
that  things  which  have  never  yet  been  done  can  be  done  except 
by  means  which  have  never  yet  been  tried. 

VII 

The  productions  of  the  mind  and  hand  seem  very  numerous  in 
books  and  manufactures.  But  all  this  variety  lies  in  an  exquisite 
subtlety  and  derivations  from  a  few  things  already  known;  not 
in  the  number  of  axioms. 

VIII 

Moreover  the  works  already  known  are  due  to  chance  and 
experiment  rather  than  to  sciences;  for  the  sciences  we  nowpos 
sess  are  merely  systems  for  the  nice  ordering  and  setting  forth 
of  things  already  invented;   noTmethods  of  invention  or  dire£ 
tions  for  new  works. 

IX 

The  cause  and  root  of  nearly  all  evils  in  the  sciences  is  this  — 
that  while  we  falsely  admire  and  extol  the  powers  of  the  human 
mind  we  neglect  to  seek  for  its  true  helps. 

x 

The  subtlety  of  nature  is  greater  many  times  over  than  the 
subtlety  of  the  senses  and  understanding;  so  that  all  those  spe- 
cious meditations,  speculations,  and  glosses  in  which  men  indulge 
are  quite  from  the  purpose,  onfo  there  is  no  one  by  tn  observe  it 

xi 

As  the  sciences  which  we  now  have  do  not  help  us  in  finding 
out  new  works,  so  neither  does  the  logic  which  we  now  have  help 
us  in  finding  out  new  sciences. 


26  BACON 

XII 

The  logic  now  in  use  serves  rather  to  fix  and  give  stability  to 
the  errors  which  have  their  foundation  in  commonly  received 
notions  than  to  help  the  search  after  truth.  So  it  does  more 
harm  than  good. 

XIII 

The  syllogism  is  not  applied  to  the  first  principles  of  sciences, 
and  is  applied  in  vain  to  intermediate  axioms;  being  no  match 
for  the  subtlety  of  nature.  It  commands  assent  therefore  to  the 
proposition,  but  does  not  take  hold  of  the  thing. 

XIV 

The  syllogism  consists  of  propositions,  propositions  consist  of 
words,  words  are  symbols  of  notions.  Therefore  if  the  notions 
themselves  (which  is  the  root  of  the  matter)  are  confused  and 
over-hastily  abstracted  from  the  facts,  there  can  be  no  firmness 
in  the  superstructure.  Our  only  hope  therefore  lies  in  a  true 
induction. 

xv 

There  is  no  soundness  in  our  notions  whether  logical  or  phys- 
ical. Substance,  Quality,  Action,  Passion,  Essence  itself,  are  not 
sound  notions:  much  less  are  Heavy,  Light,  Dense,  Rare,  Moist, 
Dry,  Generation,  Corruption,  Attraction,  Repulsion,  Element, 
Matter,  Form,  and  the  like;  but  all  are  fantastical  and  ill  defined. 

XVI 

Our  notions  of  less  general  species,  as  Man,  Dog,  Dove,  and 
of  the  immediate  perceptions  of  the  sense,  as  Hot,  Cold,  Black, 
White,  do  not  materially  mislead  us;  yet  even  these  are  some- 
times confused  by  the  flux  and  alteration  of  matter  and  the  mix- 
ing of  one  thing  with  another.  All  the  others  which  men  have 
hitherto  adopted  are  but  wanderings,  not  being  abstracted  and 
formed  from  things  by  proper  methods. 

XVII 

Nor  is  there  less  of  wilfulness  and  wandering  in  the  construc- 
tion of  axioms  than  in  the  formations  of  notions;  not  excepting 
even  those  very  principles  which  are  obtained  by  common  in- 
duction; but  much  more  in  the  axioms  and  lower  propositions 
educed  by  the  syllogism. 

i 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  27 

XVIII 

The  discoveries  which  have  hitherto  been  made  in  the  sciences 
are  such  as  lie  close  to  vulgar  notions,  scarcely  beneath  the  sur- 
face. In  order  to  penetrate  into  the  inner  and  further  recesses  of 
nature,  it  is  necessary  that  both  notions  and  axioms  be  derived 
from  things  by  a  more  sure  and  guarded  way ;  and  that  a  methooj  j 
of  intellectual  operation  be  introduced  altogether  better  and 
more  certain. 

XIX 

There  are  and  can  be  only  two  ways  of  searching  into  and  dis- 
covering truth.  The  one  flSTfrom  the  senses  and  particulars 
to  rhe~most  general  axioms,  and  from  these  principles,  the  truth 
of  which  it  takes  for  settled  and  immovable,  proceeds  to  judg- 
ment and  to  the  discovery  of  middle  axioms.  And  this  way  is 
now  in  fashion.  The  other  derives  axioms  from  the  senses  and 
particulars,  rising  by  a  gradual  and  unbroken  ascent,  so  that  it 
arrives  at  the  most  general  axioms  last  of  all.  This  is  the  true 
way,  but  as  yet  untried. 

xx 

The  understanding  left  to  itself  takes  the  same  course  (namely, 
the  former)  which  it  takes  in  accordance  with  logical  order.  For 
the  mind  longs  to  spring  up  to  positions  of  higher  generality, 
that  it  may  find  rest  there ;  and  so  after  a  little  while  wearies  of 
experiment.  But  this  evil  is  increased  by  logic,  because  of  the 
order  and  solemnity  of  its  disputations. 

XXI 

The  understanding  left  to  itself,  in  a  sober,  patient,  and  grave 
mind,  especially  if  it  be  not  hindered  by  received  doctrines,  tries 
a  little  that  other  way,  which  is  the  right  one,  but  with  little  pro- 
gress; since  the  understanding,  unless  directed  and  assisted, 
is  a  thing  unequal,  and  quite  unfit  to  contend  with  the  obscurity 
of  things. 

XXII 

Both  ways  set  out  from  the  senses  and  particulars,  and  rest 
in  the  highest  generalities;  but  the  difference  between  them  is 
infinite.  For  the  one  just  glances  at  experiment  and  particulars  in 
passing,  the  other  dwells  duly  and  orderly  among  them.  The  one, 


28  BACON 

again,  begins  at  once  by  establishing  certain  abstract  and  useless 
generalities,  the  other  rises  by  gradual  steps  to  that  which  is 
prior  and  better  known  in  the  order  of  nature. 

XXIII 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  the  Idols  of  the  human 
mind  and  the  Ideas  of  the  divine.  That  is  to  say,  between  cer- 
tain empty  dogmas,  and  the  true  signatures  and  marks  set  upon 
the  works  of  creation  as  they  are  found  in  nature. 

XXIV 

It  cannot  be  that  axioms  established  by  argumentation  should 
avail  for  the  discovery  of  new  works;  since  the  subtlety  of  nature 
is  greater  many  times  over  than  the  subtlety  of  argument.  But 
axioms  duly  and  orderly  formed  from  particulars  easily  discover 
the  way  to  new  particulars,  and  thus  render  sciences  active. 

XXV 

The  axioms  now  in  use,  having  been  suggested  by  a  scanty 
and  manipular  experience  and  a  few  particulars  of  most  general 
occurrence,  are  made  for  the  most  part  just  large  enough  to  fit 
and  take  these  in:  and  therefore  it  is  no  wonder  if  they  do  not 
lead  to  new  particulars.  And  if  some  opposite  instance,  not 
observed  or  not  known  before,  chance  to  come  in  the  way,  the 
axiom  is  rescued  and  preserved  by  some  frivolous  distinction; 
whereas  the  truer  course  would  be  to  correct  the  axiom  itself. 

XXVI 

The  conclusions  of  human  reason  as  ordinarily  applied  in 
matter  of  nature,  I  call  for  the  sake  of  distinction  Anticipations 
oj  Nature  (as  a  thing  rash  or  premature).  That  reason  which  is 
elicited  from  facts  by  a  just  and  methodical  process,  I  call 
Interpretation  of  Nature. 

XXVII 

Anticipations  are  a  ground  sufficiently  firm  for  consent;  for 
even  if  men  went  mad  all  after  the  same  fashion,  they  might 
agree  one  with  another  well  enough. 

XXVIII 

For  the  winning  of  assent,  indeed,  anticipations  are  far  more 
powerful  than  interpretations;  because  being  collected  from  a 
few  instances,  and  those  for  the  most  part  of  familiar  occurrence, 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  29 

they  straightway  touch  the  understanding  and  fill  the  imagina- 
tion; whereas  interpretations  on  the  other  hand,  being  gathered 
here  and  there  from  very  various  and  widely  dispersed  facts, 
cannot  suddenly  strike  the  understanding;  and  therefore  they 
must  needs,  in  respect  of  the  opinions  of  the  time,  seem  harsh 
and  out  of  tune;  much  as  the  mysteries  of  faith  do. 

XXIX 

In  sciences  founded  on  opinions  and  dogmas,  the  use  of  antici- 
pations and  logic  is  good;  for  in  them  the  object  is  to  command 
assent  to  the  proposition,  not  to  master  the  thing. 

XXX 

Though  all  the  wits  of  all  the  ages  should  meet  together  and 
combine  and  transmit  their  labours,  yet  will  no  great  progress 
ever  be  made  in  science  by  means  of  anticipations;  because 
radical  errors  in  the  first  concoction  of  the  mind  are  not  to  be 
cured  by  the  excellence  of  functions  and  remedies  subsequent. 

XXXI 

It  is  idle  to  expect  any  great  advancement  in  science  from  the 
superinducing  and  engrafting  of  new  things  upon  old.  We  must 
begin  anew  from  the  very  foundations,  unless  we  would  revolve 
forever  in  a  circle  with  mean  and  contemptible  progress. 

XXXII 

The  honour  of  the  ancient  authors,  and  indeed  of  all,  remains 
untouched;  since  the  comparison  I  challenge  is  not  of  wits  or 
faculties,  but  of  ways  and  methods,  and  the  part  I  take  upon 
myself  is  not  that  of  a  judge,  but  of  a  guide. 

XXXIII 

This  must  be  plainly  avowed:  no  judgment  can  be  rightly 
formed  either  of  my  method  or  of  the  discoveries  to  which  it 
leads,  by  means  of  anticipations  (that  is  to  say,  of  the  reasoning 
which  is  now  in  use);  since  I  cannot  be  called  on  to  abide  by 
the  sentence  of  a  tribunal  which  is  itself  on  its  trial. 

XXXIV 

Even  to  deliver  and  explain  what  I  bring  forward  is  no  easy 
matter;  for  things  in  themselves  new  will  yet  be  apprehended 
with  reference  to  what  is  old. 


3o  BACON 

XXXV 

It  was  said  by  Borgia  of  the  expedition  of  the  French  into 
Italy,  that  they  came  with  chalk  in  their  hands  to  mark  out  their 
lodgings,  not  with  arms  to  force  their  way  in.  I  in  like  manner 
\  would  have  my  doctrine  enter  quietly  into  the  minds  that  are 
fit  and  capable  of  receiving  it;  for  confutations  cannot  be  em- 
ployed, when  the  difference  is  upon  first  principles  and  very 
notions  and  even  upon  forms  of  demonstration. 

XXXVI 

One  method  of  delivery  alone  remains  to  us;  which  is  simply 
this:  wejrjjisjje^djnen  to  the  particulars  themselves,  and  their 
series  and  order;  while  men  on  their  side  must  force  themselves 
for  awhile  to  lay  their  notions  by  and  begin  to  familiarise  them- 
selves with  facts. 

XXXVII 

The  doctrine  of  those  who  have  denied  that  certainty  could  be 
attained  at  all,  has  some  agreement  with  my  way  of  proceeding 
at  the  first  setting  out;  but  they  end  in  being  infinitely  separated 
and  opposed.  For  the  holders  of  that  doctrine  assert  simply 
that  nothing  can  be  known;  I  also  assert  that  not  much  can  be 
known  in  nature  by  the  way  which  is  now  in  use.  But  then  they 
go  on  to  destroy  the  authority  of  the  senses  and  understanding; 
whereas  I  proceed  to  Revise  and  supply  helps  for  the  same. 

XXXVIII 

The  idols  and  false  notions  which  are  now  in  possession  of  the 
human  understanding,  and  have  taken  deep  root  therein,  not 
only  so  beset  men's  minds  that  truth  can  hardly  find  entrance, 
but  even  after  entrance  obtained,  they  will  again  in  the  very 
instauration  of  the  sciences  meet  and  trouble  us,  unless  men  being 
forewarned  of  the  danger  fortify  themselves  as  far  as  may  be 
against  their  assaults. 

XXXIX 

There  are  four  classes  of  Idols  which  beset  men's  minds.  To 
these  for  distinction's  sake  I  have  assigned  names,  —  calling 
the  first  class  Idols  $  the  Tribe;  the  second,  Idols__ojjhe  Cave; 
the  third,  Idols ^nj  the  Market-place;  the  fourth,  Idols^o^Jhe 
Theatre. 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  31 

XL 

The  formation  of  ideas  and  axioms  by  true  induction  is  no 
doubt  the  proper  remedy  to  be  applied  for  the  keeping  off  and 
clearing  away  of  idols.  To  point  them  out,  however,  is  of  great 
use;  for  the  doctrine  of  Idols  is  to  the  Interpretation  of  Nature 
what  the  doctrine  of  the  refutation  of  Sophisms  is  to  common 
Logic. 

XLI 

The  Idols  of  the  Tribe  have  their  foundation  in  human  nature 
itself,  and  in  the  tribe  or  race  of  men.  For  it  is  a  false  assertion 
that  the  sense  of  man  is  the  measure  of  things.  On  the  contrary, 
all  perceptions  as  well  of  the  sense  as  of  the  mind  are  according 
to  the  measure  of  the  individual  and  not  according  to  the 
measure  of  the  universe.  And  the  human^iinjderstanding  is  like 
a  false  mirror,  which,  receiving  ray^Jn^gulajly^d^sjtorts^and  dis- 
colours the  nature  of  things  by  mingling  its  own  nature  with  it. 

XLII 

The  Idols  of  the  Cave  are  the  idols  of  the  individual  man. 
For  every  one  (besides  the  errors  common  to  human  nature  in 
general)  has  a  cave  or  den  of  his  own,  which  refracts  and  dis- 
colours the  light  of  nature;  owing  either  to  his  own  proper  and 
peculiar  nature;  or  to  his  education  and  conversation  with  others; 
or  to  the  reading  of  books,  and  the  authority  of  those  whom 
he  esteems  and  admires;  or  to  the  differences  of  impressions, 
accordingly  as  they  take  place  in  a  mind  preoccupied  and  pre- 
disposed or  in  a  mind  indifferent  and  settled;  or  the  like.  So 
that  the  spirit  of  man  (according  as  it  is  meted  out  to  differ- 
ent individuals)  is  in  fact  a  thing  variable  and  full  of  pertur- 
bation, and  governed  as  it  were  by  chance.  Whence  it  was  well 
observed  by  Heraclitus  that  men  look  for  sciences  in  their  own 
lesser  worlds,  and  not  in  the  greater  or  common  world. 

XLIII 

There  are  also  Idols  formed  by  the  intercourse  and  associa- 
i*»n  with  each  other,  which  I  call  Idols  of  the  Market- 
place, on  account  of  the  commerce  and  consort  of  men  there. 
5  by  tl  iscourse  thatjnen  associate ;  and  words  are  imposed 
ding  to  the  apprehension  of  the  vulgar.    And  therefore 


32  BACON 

the  ill  and  unfit  choice  of  words  wonderfully  obstructs  the  under- 
standing. Nor  do  the  definitions  or  explanations  wherewith 
in  some  things  learned  men  are  wont  to  guard  and  defend  them- 
selves, by  any  means  set  the  matter  right.  But  words  plainly 
force  and  overrule  the  understanding,  and  throw  all  into  con- 
fusion, and  lead  men  away  into  numberless  empty  controversies 
and  idle  fancies. 

XLIV 

Lastly,  there  are  Idols  which  have  immigrated  into  men's 
minds  from  the  various  dogmas  of  philosophies,  and  also  from 
wrong  laws  of  demonstration.  These  I  call  Idols  of  the  Theatre ; 
because  in  my  judgment  all  the  received  systems  are  but  so 
many  stage-plays,  representing  worlds  of  their  own  creation 
after  an  unreal  and  scenic  fashion.  Nor  is  it  only  of  the  systems 
now  in  vogue,  or  only  of  the  ancient  sects  and  philosophies, 
that  I  speak;  for  many  more  plays  of  the  same  kind  may  yet  be 
composed  and  in  like  artificial  manner  set  forth;  seeing  that 
errors  the  most  widely  different  have  nevertheless  causes  for 
the  most  part  alike.  Neither  again  do  I  mean  this  only  of  entire 
systems,  but  also  of  many  principles  and  axioms  in  science, 
which  by  tradition,  credulity,  and  negligence  have  come  to  be 
received. 

But  of  these  several  kinds  of  Idols  I  must  speak  more  largely 
and  exactly,  that  the  understanding  may  be  duly  cautioned. 

XLV 

The  human  understanding  is  of  its  own  nature  prone  to  sup- 
pose the  existence  of  more  order  and  regularity  in  the  world 
than  it  finds.  And  though  there  be  many  things  in  nature  which 
are  singular  and  unmatched,  yet  it  devises  for  them  parallels 
and  conjugates  and  relatives  which  do  not  exist.  ^  Hence  the 
fiction  that  all  celestial  bodies  move  in  perfect  circles;  spirals 
and  dragons  being  (except  in  name)  utterly  rejected.  Hence 
too  the  element  of  Fire  with  its  orb  is  brought  in,  to  make  up 
the  square  with  the  other  three  which  the  sense  perceive  .Hence 
also  the  ratio  of  density  of  the  so-called  elements  is  arbitrarily 
fixed  at  ten  to  one.  And  so  on  of  other  dreams.  And  these  fa. 
affect  not  dogmas  only,  but  simple  notions  also. 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  33 

XL  VI 

The  human  understanding  when  it  has  once  adopted  an/xx 
opinion  (either  as  being  the  received  opinion  or  as  being  agree- 

ble  to  itself)  draws  all  things  else  to  support  and  agree  with  it. 
And  though  there  be  a  greater  number  and  weight  of  instances 
to  be  found  on  the  other  side,  yet  these  it  either  neglects  and 
despises,  or  else  by  some  distinction  sets  aside  and  rejects;  in 
order  that  by  this  great  and  pernicious  predetermination  the 
authority  of  its  former  conclusions  may  remain  inviolate.  And 

herefore  it  was  a  good  answer  that  was  made  by  one  who  when 
they  showed  him  hanging  in  a  temple  a  picture  of  those  who  had 
id  their  vows  as  having  escaped  shipwreck,  and  would  have 
him  say  whether  he  did  not  now  acknowledge  the  power  of  the 
gods,  —  "Aye,"  asked  he  again,  "but  where  are  they  painted 

hat  were. drowned  after  their  vows?"  And  such  is  the  way  of 
all  superstition,  whether  in  astrology,  dreams,  omens,  divine 

udgments,  or  the  like;  wherein  men,  having  a  delight  in  such 
vanities,  mark  the  events  where  they  are  fulfilled,  but  where 

hey  fail,  though  this  happen  much  oftener,  neglect  arid  pass 

hem  by.  But  with  far  more  subtlety  does  this  mischief  insinuate 

tself  into  philosophy  and  the  sciences;   in  which  the  first  con- 
clusion colours  and  brings  into  conformity  with  itself  all  that 
come  after,  though  far  sounder  and  better.   Besides,  independ- . 
ently  of  that  delight  and  vanity  which  I  have  described,  it  is  the  ^^ 

>eculiar  and  perpetual  error  of  the  human  intellect  to  be  more 
moved  and  excited  by  affirmatives  than  by  negatives ;  whereas  it 

ught  properly  to  hold  itself  indifferently  disposed  towards  both 
alike.  Indeed  in  the  establishment  of  any  true  axiom,  the  nega- 

ive  instance  is  the  more  forcible  of  the  two. 

XL  VII 

The  human  understanding  is  moved  by  those  things  most 

which  strike  and  enter  the  mind  simultaneously  and  suddenly, 

and  so  fill  the  imagination;   and  then  it  feigns  and  supposes  all 

>ther  things  to  be  somehow,  though  it  cannot  see  how,  similar 

o  those  few  things  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  But  for  that  going 

o  and  fro  to  remote  and  heterogeneous  instances,  by  which 

axioms  are  tried  as  in  the  fire,  the  intellect  is  altogether  slow  and 


34  BACON 

unfit,  unless  it  be  forced  thereto  by  severe  laws  and  overruling 
authority. 

XL  VIII 

The  human  understanding  is  unquiet;  it  cannot  stop  or  rest 
and  still  presses  onward,  but  in  vain.  Therefore  it  is  that  we 
cannot  conceive  of  any  end  or  limit  to  the  world;  but  always 
as  of  necessity  it  occurs  to  us  that  there  is  something  beyond. 
Neither  again  can  it  be  conceived  how  eternity  has  flowed  down 
to  the  present  day;  for  that  distinction  which  is  commonly  re- 
ceived of  infinity  in  time  past  and  in  time  to  come  can  by  no( 
means  hold;  for  it  would  thence  follow  that  one  infinity  is  greater 
than  another,  and  that  infinity  is  wasting  away  and  tending  to 
become  finite.  The  like  subtlety  arises  touching  the  infinite 
divisibility  of  lines,  from  the  same  inability  of  thought  to  stop. 
But  this  inability  interferes  more  mischievously  in  the  discovery 
of  causes:  for  although  the  most  general  principles  in  nature 
ought  to  be  held  merely  positive,  as  they  are  discovered,  and  can- 
not with  truth  be  referred  to  a  cause;  nevertheless  the  human 
understanding  being  unable  to  rest  still  seeks  something  prior 
in  the  order  of  nature.  And  then  it  is  that  in  struggling  towards 
that  which  is  further  off  it  falls  back  upon  that  which  is  more 
nigh  at  hand;  namely,  on  final  causes:  which  have  relation 
clearly  to  the  nature  of  man  rather  than  to  the  nature  of  the 
universe ;  and  from  this  source  have  strangely  defiled  philosophy. 
But  he  is  no  less  an  unskilled  and  shallow  philosopher  who 
seeks  causes  of  that  which  is  most  general,  than  he  who  in  things 
subordinate  and  subaltern  omits  to  do  so. 

XLIX 

The  human  understanding  is  no  dry  light,  but  receives  an 
infusion  from  the  will  and  affections;  whence  proceed  sciences 
which  may  be  called  "  sciences  as  one  would."  For  what  a  man 
iad  rather  were  true  he  more  readily  believes.  Therefore  he 
rejects  difficult  things  from  impatience  of  research;  sober  things, 
because  they  narrow  hope;  the  deeper  things  of  nature,  from 
superstition;  the  light  of  experience,  from  arrogance  and  pride, 
lest  his  mind  should  seem  to  be  occupied  with  things  mean  and 
transitory;  things  not  commonly  believed,  out  of  deference  to 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  35 

the  opinion  of  the  vulgar.  Numberless  in  short  are  the  ways, 
and  sometimes  imperceptible,  in  which  the  affections  colour  and 
infect  the  understanding. 

L 

But  by  far  the  greatest  hindrance  and  aberration  of  the  human 
understanding  proceeds  from  the  dulness,  incompetency,  and 
deceptions  of  the  senses;  in  that  things  which  strike  the  sense 
outweigh  things  which  do  not  immediately  strike  it,  though  they 
be  more  important.  Hence  it  is  that  speculation  commonly 
ceases  where  sight  ceases ;  insomuch  that  of  things  invisible  there 
is  little  or  no  observation.  Hence  all  the  working  of  the  spirits 
inclosed  in  tangible  bodies  lies  hid  and  unobserved  of  men.  So 
also  all  the  more  subtle  changes  of  form  in  the  parts  of  coarser 
substances  (which  they  commonly  call  alteration,  though  it  is 
in  truth  local  motion  through  exceedingly  small  spaces)  is.  in  like 
manner  unobserved.  And  yet  unless  these  two  things  just  men- 
tioned be  searched  out  and  brought  to  light,  nothing  great  can 
be  achieved  in  nature,  as  far  as  the  production  of  works  is  con- 
cerned. So  again  the  essential  nature  of  our  common  air,  and  of 
all  bodies  less  dense  than  air  (which  are  very  many),  is  almost 
unknown.  For  the  sense  by  itself  is  a  thing  infirm  and  erring; 
neither  can  instruments  for  enlarging  or  sharpening  the  senses 
do  much;  but  all  the  truer  kind  of  interpretation  of  nature  is 
effected  by  instances  and  experiments  fit  and  apposite;  wherein 
the  sense  decides  touching  the  experiment  only,  and  the  experi- 
ment touching  the  point  in  nature  and  the  thing  itself. 

LI 

The  human  understanding  is  of  its  own  nature  prone  to  ab- 
stractions and  gives  a  substance  and  reality  to  things  which 
are  fleeting.  But  to  resolve  nature  into  abstractions  is  less  to 
our  purpose  than  to  dissect  her  into  parts;  as  did  the  school 
of  Democritus,  which  went  further  into  nature  than  the  rest. 
Matter  ratherThan  forms  should  be  the  object  of  our  attention, 
its  configurations  and  changes  of  configuration,  and  simple 
action,  and  law  of  action  or  motion;  for  forms  are  figments  of 
the  human  mind,  unless  you  will  call  those  laws  of  action 
forms. 


36  BACON 

LII 

Such  then  are  the  idols  which  I  call  Idols  oj  the  Tribe;  and 
which  take  their  rise  either  from  the  homogeneity  of  the  sub- 
stance of  the  human  spirit,  or  from  its  preoccupation,  or  from 
its  narrowness,  or  from  its  restless  motion,  or  from  an  infusion 
of  the  affections,  or  from  the  incompetency  of  the  senses,  or  from 
the  mode  of  impression. 

LIII 

The  Idols  of  the  Cave  take  their  rise  in  the  peculiar  constitu- 
tion, mental  or  bodily,  of  each  individual;  and  also  in  educa- 
tion, habit,  and  accident.  Of  this  kind  there  is  a  great  number 
and  variety;  but  I  will  instance  those  the  pointing  out  of  which 
contains  the  most  important  caution,  and  which  have  most  effect 
in  disturbing  the  clearness  of  the  understanding. 

LIV 

Men  become  attached  to  certain  particular  sciences  and  specu- 
lations, either  because  they  fancy  themselves  the  authors  and 
inventors  thereof,  or  because  they  have  bestowed  the  greatest 
pains  upon  them  and  become  most  habituated  to  them.  But  men 
of  this  kind,  if  they  betake  themselves  to  philosophy  and  contem- 
plation of  a  general  character,  distort  and  colour  them  in  obedi- 
ence to  their  former  fancies;  a  thing  especially  to  be  noticed  in 
Aristotle,  who  made  his  natural  philosophy  a  mere  bond-ser- 
vant to  his  logic,  thereby  rendering  it  contentious  and  well-nigh 
useless.  The  race  of  chemists  again  out  of  a  few  experiments  of 
the  furnace  have  built  up  a  fantastic  philosophy,  framed  with 
reference  to  a  few  things;  and  Gilbert  also,  after  he  had  em- 
ployed himself  most  laboriously  in  the  study  and  observation  oi 
the  loadstone,  proceeded  at  once  to  construct  an  entire  system 
in  accordance  with  his  favourite  subject. 

LV 

There  is  one  principal  and  as  it  werxe  radical  distinction  between 
different  minds,  in  respect  of  philosophy  and  the  sciences;  which 
is  this :  that  some  minds  are  stronger  and  apter  to  mark  the  differ- 
ences of  things,  others  to  mark  their  resemblances.  The  steady 
and  acute  mind  can  fix  its  contemplations  and  dwell  and  fasten 
on  the  subtlest  distinctions:  the  lofty  and  discursive  mind  re- 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  37 

cognizes  and  puts  together  the  finest  and  most  general  resem- 
blances. Both  kinds  however  easily  err  in  excess,  by  catching 
the  one  at  gradations  the  other  at  shadows. 

LVI 

There  are  found  some  minds  given  to  an  extreme  admiration 
of  antiquity,  others  to  an  extreme  love  and  appetite  for  novelty; 
but  few  so  duly  tempered  that  they  can  hold  the  mean,  neither 
carping  at  what  has  been  well  laid  down  by  the  ancients,  nor 
despising  what  is  well  introduced  by  the  moderns.  This,  how- 
ever, turns  to  the  great  injury  of  the  sciences  and  philosophy; 
since  these  affectations  of  antiquity  and  novelty  are  the  humours 
of  partisans  rather  than  judgments;  and  truth  is  to  be  sought 
for  not  in  the  felicity  of  any  age,  which  is  an  unstable  thing, 
but  in  the  light  of  nature  and  experience,  which  is  eternal.  These 
factions  therefore  must  be  abjured,  and  care  must  be  taken  that 
the  intellect  be  not  hurried  by  them  into  assent. 

LVII 

Contemplations  of  nature  and  of  bodies  in  their  simple  form 
break  up  and  distract  the  understanding,  while  contemplations 
of  nature  and  bodies  in  their  composition  and  configuration 
overpower  and  dissolve  the  understanding;  a  distinction  well 
seen  in  the  school  of  Leucippus  and  Democritus  as  compared 
with  the  other  philosophies.  For  that  school  is  so  busied  with 
the  particles  that  it  hardly  attends  to  the  structure;  while  the 
others  are  so  lost  in  admiration  of  the  structure  that  they  do  not 
penetrate  to  the  simplicity  of  nature.  These  kinds  of  contempla- 
tion should  therefore  be  alternated  and  taken  by  turns;  that  so 
the  understanding  may  be  rendered  at  once  penetrating  and 
comprehensive,  and  the  inconveniences  above  mentioned,  with 
the  idols  which  proceed  from  them,  may  be  avoided. 

LVIII 

Let  such  then  be  our  provision  and  contemplative  prudence 
for  keeping  off  and  dislodging  the  Idols  of  the  Cave,  which  grow 
for  the  most  part  either  out  of  the  predominance  of  a  favourite 
subject,  or  out  of  an  excessive  tendencv  to  compare  or  to  dis- 
tinguish, or  out  of  partiality  for  particular  ages,  or  out  of  the 
largeness  or  minuteness  of  the  objects  contemplated.  And  gen- 


38  BACON 

erally  let  every  student  of  nature  take  this  as  a  rule,  —  that  what- 
ever his  mind  seizes  and  dwells  upon  with  peculiar  satisfaction 
is  to  be  held  in  suspicion,  and  that  so  much  the  more  care  is  to 
be  taken  in  dealing  with  such  questions  to  keep  the  understanding 
even  and  clear. 

LIX 

But  the  Idols  of  the  Market-place  are  the  most  troublesome 
of  all:  idols  which  have  crept  into  the  understanding  through 
the  alliances  of  words  and  names.  For  men  believe  that  their 
reason  governs  words;  but  it  is  also  true  that  words  react  on  the 
understanding;  and  this  it  is  that  has  rendered  philosophy  and 
the  sciences  sophistical  and  inactive.  Now  words,  being  com- 
monly framed  and  applied  according  to  the  capacity  of  the 
vulgar,  follow  those  lines  of  division  which  are  most  obvious  to 
the  vulgar  understanding.  And  whenever  an  understanding  of 
greater  acuteness  or  a  more  diligent  observation  would  alter 
those  lines  to  suit  the  true  divisions  of  nature,  words  stand  in 
the  way  and  resist  the  change.  Whence  it  comes  to  pass  that 
the  high  and  formal  discussions  of  learned  men  end  often- 
times in  disputes  about  words  and  names;  with  which  (accord- 
ing to  the  use  and  wisdom  of  the  mathematicians)  it  would  be 
more  prudent  to  begin,  and  so  by  means  of  definitions  reduce 
them  to  order.  Yet  even  definitions  cannot  cure  this  evil  in 
dealing,  with  natural  and  material  things;  since  the  definitions 
themselves  consist  of  words,  and  those  words  beget  others:  so 
that  it  is  necessary  to  recur  to  individual  instances,  and  those 
in  due  series  and  order;  as  I  shall  say  presently  when  I  come  to 
the  method  and  scheme  for  the  formation  of  notions  and  axioms. 

LX 

The  idols  imposed  by  words  on  the  understanding  are  of 
two  kinds.  They  are  either  names  of  things  which  do  not  exist 
(for  as  there  are  things  left  unnamed  through  lack  of  observa- 
tion, so  likewise  are  there  names  which  result  from  fantastic 
suppositions  and  to  which  nothing  in  reality  corresponds),  Or 
they  are  names  of  things  which  exist,  but  yet  confusedtand  ill- 
defined,  and  hastily  and  irregularly  derived  from  realities.  Of 
the  former  kind  are  Fortune,  the  Prime  Mover,  Planetary  Orbits, 

I 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  39 

Element  of  Fire,  and  like  fictions  which  owe  their  origin  to  false 
and  idle  theories.  And  this  class  of  idols  is  more  easily  expelled, 
because  to  get  rid  of  them  it  is  only  necessary  that  all  theories 
should  be  steadily  rejected  and  dismissed  as  obsolete. 

But  the  other  class,  which  springs  out  of  a  faulty  and  unskil-' 
ful  abstraction,  is  intricate  and  deeply  rooted.  Let  us  take  for 
example  such  a  word  as  humid;  and  see  how  far  the  several  things 
which  the  word  is  used  to  signify  agree  with  each  other;  and  we 
shall  find  the  word  humid  to  be  nothing  else  than  a  mark  loosely 
and  confusedly  applied  to  denote  a  variety  of  actions  which  will 
not  bear  to  be  reduced  to  any  constant  meaning.  For  it  both  signi- 
fies that  which  easily  spreads  itself  round  any  other  body;  and 
that  which  in  itself  is  indeterminate  and  cannot  solidize ;  and  that 
which  readily  yields  in  every  direction;  and  that  which  easily 
divides  and  scatters  itself;  and  that  which  easily  unites  and 
collects  itself;  and  that  which  readily  flows  and  is  put  in  motion; 
and  that  which  readily  clings  to  another  body  and  wets  it;  and 
that  which  is  easily  reduced  to  a  liquid,  or  being  solid  easily 
melts.  Accordingly  when  you  come  to  apply  the  word,  —  if  you 
take  it  in  one  sense,  flame  is  humid;  if  in  another,  air  is  not  humid; 
if  in  another,  fine  dust  is  humid;  if  in  another,  glass  is  humid. 
So  that  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  notion  is  taken  by  abstraction 
only  from  water  and  common  and  ordinary  liquids,  without 
any  due  verification. 

There  are  however  in  words  certain  degrees  of  distortion 
and  error.  One  of  the  least  faulty  kinds  is  that  of  names  of 
substances,  especially  of  lowest  species  and  well-deduced  (for 
the  notion  of  chalk  and  of  mud  is  good,  of  earth  bad) ;  a  more 
faulty  kind  is  that  of  actions,  as  to  generate,  to  corrupt,  to  alter; 
the  most  faulty  is  of  qualities  (except  such  as  are  the  immediate 
objects  of  the  sense),  as  heavy,  light,  rare,  dense,  and  the  like. 
Yet  in  all  these  cases  some  notions  are  of  necessity  a  little  bet- 
ter than  others,  in  proportion  to  the  greater  variety  of  subjects 
that  fall  within  the  range  of  the  human  sense. 

LXI 

he  Idols  o]  the  Theatre  are  not  innate,  nor  do  they  steal 
into         understanding  secretly,  but  are  plainly  impressed  and 


40  BACON    i 

received  into  the  mind  from  the  play-books  of  philosophical 
systems  and  the  perverted  rules  of  demonstration.  To  attempt 
refutations  in  this  case  would  be  merely  inconsistent  with  what 
I  have  already  said:  for  since  we  agree  neither  upon  principles 
nor  upon  demonstrations  there  is  no  place  for  argument.  And 
this  is  so  far  well,  inasmuch  as  it  leaves  the  honour  of  the  ancients 
untouched.  For  they  are  no  wise  disparaged  —  the  question 
between  them  and  me  being  only  as  to  the  way.  For  as  the 
saying  is,  the  lame  man  who  keeps  the  right  road  outstrips  the 
runner  who  takes  a  wrong  one.  Nay  it  is  obvious  that  when  a 
man  runs  the  wrong  way,  the  more  active  and  swift  he  is  the 
further  he  will  go  astray. 

But  the  course  I  propose  for  the  discovery  of  sciences  is  such 
as  leaves  but  little  to  the  acuteness  and  strength  of  wits,  but 
places  all  wits  and  understandings  nearly  on  a  level.  For  as  in 
the  drawing  of  a  straight  line  or  a  perfect  circle,  much  depends 
on  the  steadiness  and  practice  of  the  hand,  if  it  be  done  by  aim 
of  hand  only,  but  if  with  the  aid  of  rule  and  compass,  little  or 
nothing;  so  is  it  exactly  with  my  plan.  But  though  particular 
confutations  would  be  of  no  avail,  yet  touching  the  sects  and  gen- 
eral divisions  of  such  systems  I  must  say  something;  something 
also  touching  the  external  signs  which  show  that  they  are  un- 
sound; and  finally  something  touching  the  causes  of  such  great 
infelicity  and  of  such  lasting  and  general  agreement  in  error; 
that  so  the  access  to  truth  may  be  made  less  difficult,  and  the 
human  understanding  may  the  more  willingly  submit  to  its 
purgation  and  dismiss  its  idols. 

LXII 

Idols  of  the  Theatre,  or  of  Systems,  are  many,  and  there  can 
be  and  perhaps  will  be  yet  many  more.  For  were  it  not  that  now 
for  many  ages  men's  minds  have  been  busied  with  religion  and 
theology;  and  were  it  not  that  civil  governments,  especially 
monarchies,  have  been  averse  to  such  novelties,  even  in  matters 
speculative;  so  that  men  labour  therein  to  the  peril  and  harming 
of  their  fortunes,  —  not  only  unrewarded,  but  exposed  also  to 
contempt  and  envy;  doubtless  there  would  have  arisen  many 
other  philosophical  sects  like  to  those  which  in  great  variety 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  41 

flourished  once  among  the  Greeks.  For  as  on  the  phenomena 
of  the  heavens  many  hypotheses  may  be  .constructed,  so  likewise 
(and  more  also)  many  various  dogmas  may  be  set  up  and  estab- 
lished on  the  phenomena  of  philosophy.  And  "in  the  plays  of 
this  philosophical  theatre  you  may  observe  the  same  thing  which 
is  found  in  the  theatre  of  the  poets,  that  stories  invented  for  the 
stage  are  more  compact  and  elegant,  and  more  as  one  would 
wish  them  to  be,  than  true  stories  out  of  history.  — & 

In  general  however  there  is  taken  for  the  material  of  phi- 
losophy either  a  great  deal  out  of  a  few  things,  or  a  very  little 
out  of  many  things;  so  that  on  both  sides  philosophy  is  based 
on  too  narrow  a  foundation  of  experiment  and  natural  history, 
and  decides  on  the  authority  of  too  few  cases.  For  the  Rational 
School  of  philosophers  snatches  from  experience  a  variety  of 
common  instances,  neither  duly  ascertained  nor  diligently  exam- 
ined and  weighed,  and  leaves  all  the  rest  to  meditation  and  agita- 
tion of  wit. 

There  is  also  another  class  of  philosophers,  who  having  be- 
stowed much  diligent  and  careful  labour  on  a  few  experiments, 
have  thence  made  bold  to  educe  and  construct  systems;  wresting 
all  other  facts  in  a  strange  fashion  to  conformity  therewith. 

And  there  is  yet  a  third  class,  consisting  of  those  who  out  of 
faith  and  veneration  mix  their  philosophy  with  theology  and  tra-  ^ 
ditions;  among  whom  the  vanity  of  some  has  gone  so  far  aside  as.v 
to  seek  the  origin  of  sciences  among  spirits  and  genii.  So  that  this  *  \  ^ 
parent  stock  of  errors  —  this  false  philosophy  —  is  of  three  kinds; 
the  Sophistical,  the  Empirical,  and  the  Superstitious. 

LXIII 

The  most  conspicuous  example  of  the  first  class  was  Aristotle, 
who  corrupted  natural  philosophy  by  his  logic :  fashioning  the 
world  out  of  categories ;  assigning  to  the  human  soul,  the  noblest 
of  substances,  a  genus  from  words  of  the  second  intention;  doing 
the  business  of  density  and  rarity  (which  is  to  make  bodies  of 
greater  or  less  dimensions,  that  is,  occupy  greater  or  less  spaces), 
by  the  frigid  distinction  of  act  and  power;  asserting  that  single 
bodies  have  each  a  single  and  proper  motion,  and  that  if  they 
participate  in  any  other,  then  this  results  from  an  external  cause; 


42  BACON 

and  imposing  countless  other  arbitrary  restrictions  on  the  nature 
of  things;  being  always  more  solicitous  to  provide  an  answer 
to  the  question  and  affirm  something  positive  in  words,  than 
about  the  inner  truth  of  things;  a  failing  best  shown  when  his 
philosophy  is  compared  with  other  systems  of  note  among  the 
Greeks.  For  the  Homceomera  of  Anaxagoras;  the  Atoms  of 
Leucippus  and  Democritus;  the  Heaven  and  Earth  of  Parmen- 
ides;  the  Strife  and  Friendship  of  Empedocles;  Heraclitus's 
doctrine  how  bodies  are  resolved  into  the  indifferent  nature 
of  fire,  and  remoulded  into  solids;  have  all  of  them  some  taste 
of  the  natural  philosopher,  —  some  savour  of  the  nature  of 
things,  and  experience,  and  bodies;  whereas  in  the  physics  of 
Aristotle  you  hear  hardly  anything  but  the  words  of  logic;  which 
in  his  metaphysics  also,  under  a  more  imposing  name,  and  more 
forsooth  as  a  realist  than  a  nominalist,  he  has  handled  over  again. 
Nor  let  any  weight  be  given  to  the  fact,  that  in  his  books  on 
animals  and  his  problems,  and  other  of  his  treatises,  there  is 
frequent  dealing  with  experiments.  For  he  had  come  to  his  con- 
clusion before;  he  did  not  consult  experience,  as  he  should  have 
done,  in  order  to  the  framing  of  his  decisions  and  axioms; 
but  having  first  determined  the  question  according  to  his  will, 
he  then  resorts  to  experience,  and  bending  her  into  conformity 
with  his  placets  leads  her  about  like  a  captive  in  a  procession ; 
so  that  even  on  this  count  he  is  more  guilty  than  his  modern 
followers,  the  schoolmen,  who  have  abandoned  experience  alto- 
gether. ^ 

LXIV 

But  the  Empirical  school  of  philosophy  gives  birth  to  dogmas 
more  deformed  and  monstrous  than  the  Sophistical  or  Rational 
school.  For  it  has  its  foundations  not  in  the  light  of  common 
notions  (which  though  it  be  a  faint  and  superficial  light,  is  yet 
in  a  manner  universal,  and  has  reference  to  many  things)  but  in 
the  narrowness  and  darkness  of  a  few  experiments.  To  those 
therefore  who  are  daily  busied  with  these  experiments,  and  have 
infected  their  imagination  with  them,  such  a  philosophy  seems 
probable  and  all  but  certain;  to  all  men  else  incredible  and  vain. 
Of  this  there  is  a  notable  instance  in  the  alchemists  and  their 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  43 

dogmas;  though  it  is  hardly  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  these  times, 
except  perhaps  in  the  philosophy  of  Gilbert.   Nevertheless  with 
regard  to  philosophies  of  this  kind  there  is  one  caution  not  to  be 
omitted;  for  I  foresee  that  if  ever  men  are  roused  by  my  admo-  ^/ 
nitipns  to  betake  themselves  seriously  to  experiment  and  bid    / 
farewell  to  sophistical  doctrines,  then  indeed  through  the  pre- 
mature hurry  of  the  understanding  to  leap  or  fly  to  universals 
and  principles  of  things,  great  danger  may  be  apprehended  from 
philosophies  of  this  kind ;  against  which  evil  we  ought  even  now 
to  prepare. 

LXV 

But  the  corruption  of  philosophy  by  superstition  and  an  ad- 
mixture of  theology  is  far  more  widely  spread,  and  does  the 
greatest  harm,  whether  to  entire  systems  or  to  their  parts.   For  -    " 
the  human  understanding  is  obnoxious  to  the  influence  of  the 
imagination  no  less  than  to  the  influence  of  common  notions. 
For  the  contentious  and  sophistical  kind  of  philosophy  ensnares 
the  understanding;    but  this  kind,  being  fanciful  and  tumid, 
and  half  poetical,  misleads  it  more  by  flattery.   For  there  is  in  X 
man  an  ambition  of  the  understanding,  no  less  than  of  the  will, 
especially  in  high  and  lofty  spirits. 

Of  this  kind  we  iiave  among  the  Greeks  a  striking  example  { 
in  Pythagoras,  though  he  united  with  it  a  coarser  and  more  cum-* 
brous  superstition;  another  in  Plato  and  his  school,  more  danger- 
ous and  subtle.  It  shows  itself  likewise  in  parts  of  ot'her'pTlllo- 
sophies,  in  the  introduction  of  abstract  forms  and  final  causes 
and  first  causes,  with  the  omission  in  most  cases  of  causes  in- 
termediate, and  the  like.  Upon  this  point  the  greatest  caution 

ud  be  used.  For  nothing  is  so  mischievous  as  the  apotheosi^    - 
of  error;  and  it  is  a  very  plague  of  the  understanding  for  vanity* 
to  become  the  object  of  veneration.  Yet  in  this  vanity  some  of  the, 
moderns  have  with  extreme  levity  indulged  so  far  as  to  attempt; 
to  found  a  system  of  natural  philosophy  on  the  first  chapter  of 
,  sis,  on  the  bQok  of  Job,  and  other  parts  of  the  sacred  writ-; 
ings;  seeking  for  the  dead  among  the  living;  which  also  makes 
the  inhibition  and  repression  of  it  the  more  important,  because 
this  unwholesome  mixture  of  things  human  and  divine 


44  BACON 

there  arises  not  only  a  fantastic  philosophy  but  also  an  heretical 
religion.  Very,  meet  it  is  therefore  that  we  be  sober-minded,  and 
give  to  faith  that  only  which  is  faith's.// 

LXVI 

So  much  then  for  the  mischievous  authorities  of  systems, 
which  are  founded  either  on  common  notions,  or  on  a  few  experi- 
ments, or  on  superstition.  It  remains  to  speak  of  the  faulty  sub- 
ject-matter of  contemplations,  especially  in  natural  philosophy. 
Now  the  human  understanding  is  infected  by  the  sight  of  what 
takes  place  .in  the  mechanical  arts,  in  which  the  alteration  of 
bodies  proceeds  chiefly  by  composition  or  separation,  and  so 
imagines  that  something  similar  goes  on  in  the  universal  nature 
of  things.  From  this  source  has  flowed  the  fiction  of  elements, 
and  of  their  concourse  for  the  formation  of  natural  bodies. 
Again,  when  man  contemplates  nature  working  freely,  he  meets 
with  different  species  of  things,  of  animals,  of  plants,  of  minerals; 
whence  he  readily  passes  into  the  opinion  that  there  are  in  nature 
certain  primary  forms  which  nature  intends  to  educe,  and  that 
the  remaining  variety  proceeds  from  hindrances  and  aberrations 
of  nature  in  the  fulfilment  of  her  work,  or  from  the  collision  of 
different  species  and  the  transplanting  of  one  into  another.  To 
the  first  of  these  speculations  we  owe  our  primary  qualities  of 
the  elements;  to  the  other  our  occult  properties  and  specific 
virtues;  and  both  of  them  belong  to  those  empty  compendia  of 
thought  wherein  the  mind  rests,  and  whereby  it  is  diverted  from 
more  solid  pursuits.  It  is  to  better  purpose  that  the  physicians 
bestow  their  labour  on  the  secondary  qualities  of  matter,  and 
the  operations  of  attraction,  repulsion,  attenuation,  conspissation, 
dilatation,  astriction,  dissipation,  maturation,  and  the  like;  and 
were  it  not  that  by  those  two  compendia  which  I  have  men- 
tioned (elementary  qualities,  to  wit,  and  specific  virtues)  they 
corrupted  their  correct  observations  in  these  other  matters,  - 
either  reducing  them  to  first  qualities  and  their  subtle  and  in- 
commensurable mixtures,  or  not  following  them  out  with  greater 
and  more  diligent  observation  to  third  and  fourth  qualities,  by 
breaking  off  the  scrutiny  prematurely,  —  they  had  made  much 
greater  progress.  Nor  are  powers  of  this  kind  (I  do  not  say  the 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  45 

same,  but  similar)  to  be  sought  for  only  in  the  medicines  of  the 
human  body,  but  also  in  the  changes  of  all  other  bodies. 

But  it  is  a  far  greater  evil  that  they  make  the  quiescent  prin- 
ciples, wherefrom,  and  not  the  moving  principles,  whereby,  things 
are  produced,  the  object  of  their  contemplation  and  inquiry. 
For  the  former  tend  to  discourse,  the  latter  to  works.  Nor  is  there 
any  value  in  those  vulgar  distinctions  of  motion  which  are  ob- 
served in  the  received  system  of  natural  philosophy,  as  gen- 
eration, corruption,  augmentation,  diminution,  alteration,  and 
local  motion.   What  they  mean  no  doubt  is  this:  If  a  body  in 
other  respects  not  changed,  be  moved  from  its  place,  this  is  local 
motion;  if  without  change  of  place  or  essence,  it  be  changed  in 
quality,  this  is  alteration;  if  by  reason  of  the  change  the  mass  and 
quantity  of  the  body  do  not  remain  the  same,  this  is  augmenta- 
tion or  diminution;  if  they  be  changed  to  such  a  degree  that  they 
change  their  very  essence  and  substance  and  turn  to  something 
else,  this  is  generation  and  corruption.    But  all  this  is  merely 
popular,  and  does  not  at  all  go  deep  into  nature;  for  these  are 
only  measures  and  limits,  not  kinds  of  motion.   What  they  in-~ 
timate  is  how  far,  not  by  what  means,  or  }rom  what  source.   For", 
they  do  not  suggest  anything  with  regard  either  to  the  desires  • 
of  bodies  or  to  the  development  of  their  parts:   it  is  only  when  ~ 
that  motion  presents  the  thing  grossly  and  palpably  to  the  sense 
as  different  from  what  it  was,  that  they  begin  to  mark  the  division. , 
Even  when  they  wish  to  suggest  something  with  regard  to  the  , 
causes  of  motion,  and  to  establish  a  division  with  reference  to 
them,  they  introduce  with  the  greatest  negligence  a  distinction 
between  motion  natural  and  violent;  a  distinction  which  is  itself 
drawn  entirely  from  a  vulgar  notion,  since  all  violent  motion  is 
also  in  fact  natural;  the  external  efficient  simply  setting  nature 
working  otherwise  than  it  was  before.    But  if,  leaving  all  this,  ' 
any  one  shall  observe  (for  instance)  that  there  is  in  bodies  a  desire 
of  mutual  contact,  so  as  not  to  suffer  the  unity  of  nature  to  be 
quite  separated  or  broken  and  a  vacuum  thus  made;   or  if  any 
one  say  that  there  is  in  bodies  a  desire  of  resuming  their  natural 
dimensions  or  tension,  so  that  if  compressed  within  or  extended 
beyond  them,  they  immediately  strive  to  recover  themselves, 


46  BACON 

and  fall  back  to  their  old  volume  and  extent ;  or  if  any  one  say 
that  there  is  in  bodies  a  desire  of  congregating  towards  masses 
of  kindred  nature,  —  of  dense  bodies,  for  instance,  towards  the 
globe  of  the  earth,  of  thin  and  rare  bodies  towards  the  compass 
of  the  sky;  all  these  and  the  like  are  truly  physical  kinds  of 
motion,  —  but  those  others  are  entirely  logical  and  scholastic, 
as  is  abundantly  manifest  from  this  comparison. 

Nor  again  is  it  a  less  evil,  that  in  their  philosophies  and  con- 
templations their  labour  is  spent  in  investigating  and  handling 
the  first  principles  of  things  and  the  highest  generalities  of  na- 
ture; whereas  utility  and  the  means  of  working  result  entirely 
from  things  intermediate.  Hence  it  is  that  men  cease  not  from 
abstracting  nature  till  they  come  to  potential  and  uninformed 
matter,  nor  on  the  other  hand  from  dissecting  nature  till  they 
reach  the  atom;  things  which,  even  if  true,  can  do  but  little 
for  the  welfare  of  mankind. 

LXVII 

A  caution  must  also  be  given  to  the  understanding  against  the 
intemperance  which  systems  of  philosophy  manifest  in  giving 
or  withholding  assent ;  because  intemperance  of  this  kind  seems 
to  establish  Idols  and  in  some  sort  to  perpetuate  them,  leaving 
no  way  open  to  reach  and  dislodge  them. 

This  excess  is  of  two  kinds:  the  first  being  manifest  in  those 
who  are  ready  in  deciding,  and  render  sciences  dogmatic  and 
magisterial ;  the  other  in  those  who  deny  that  we  can  know  any- 
thing, and  so  introduce  a  wandering  kind  of  inquiry  that  leads 
to  nothing;  of  which  kinds  the  former  subdues,  the  latter  weak- 
ens the  understanding.  For  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle,  after 
having  by  hostile  confutations  destroyed  all  the  rest  (as  the 
Ottomans  serve  their  brothers),  has  laid  down  the  law  on  all 
points;  which  done,  he  proceeds  himself  to  raise  new  questions 
of  his  own  suggestion,  and  dispose  of  them  likewise;  so  that  no- 
thing may  remain  that  is  not  certain  and  decided:  a  practice 
which  holds  and  is  in  use  among  his  successors. 

The  school  of  Plato,  on  the  other  hand,  introduced  Acatalepsia, 
at  first  in  jest  and  irony,  and  in  disdain  of  the  older  sophists, 
Protagoras,  Hippias,  and  the  rest,  who  were  of  nothing  eke  so 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  47 

much  ashamed  as  of  seeming  to  doubt  about  anything.  But  the 
New  Academy  made  a  dogma  of  it,  and  held  it  as  a  tenet.  And 
though  theirs  is  a  fairer  seeming  way  than  arbitrary  decisions; 
since  they  say  that  they  by  no  means  destroy  all  investigation, 
like  Pyrrho  and  his  Refrainers,  but  allow  of  some  things  to  be 
followed  as  probable,  though  of  none  to  be  maintained  as  true ; 
yet  still  when  the  human  mind  has  once  despaired  of  finding 
truth,  its  interest  in  all  things  grows  fainter;  and  the  result  is 
that  men  turn  aside  to  pleasant  disputations  and  discourses  and 
roam  as  it  were  from  object  to  object,  rather  than  keep  on  a 
course  of  severe  inquisition.  But,  as  I  said  at  the  beginning  and 
am  ever  urging,  the  human  senses  and  understanding,  weak  as 
they  are,  are  not  to  be  deprived  of  their  authority,  but  to  be  sup- 
plied with  helps. 

LXVIII 

So  much  concerning  the  several  classes  of  Idols,  and  their 
equipage:  all  of  which  must  be  renounced  and  put  away  with 
a  fixed  and  solemn  determination,  and  the  understanding 
thoroughly  freed  and  cleansed;  the  entrance  into  the  kingdom 
of  man,  founded  on  the  sciences,  being  not  much  other  than  the 
entrance  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  whereinto  none  may  enter 
except  as  a  little  child. 

LXIX 

But  vicious  demonstrations  are  as  the  strongholds  and  de- 
fences of  Idols;  and  those  we  have  in  logic  do  little  else  than 
make  the  world  the  bond-slave  of  human  thought,  and  human 
thought  the  bond-slave  of  words.  Demonstrations  truly  are 
in  effect  the  philosophies  themselves  and  the  sciences.  For  such 
as  they  are,  well  or  ill  established,  such  are  the  systems  of  philo- 
sophy and  the  contemplations  which  follow.  Now  in  the  whole 
of  the  process  which  leads  from  the  sense  and  objects  to  axioms 
and  conclusions,  the  demonstrations  which  we  use  are  deceptive 
and  incompetent.  This  process  consists  of  four  parts,  and  has 
as  many  faults.  In  the  first  place,  the  impressions  of  the  sense 
itself  are  faulty;  for  the  sense  both  fails  us  and  deceives  us.  But 
its  short-comings  are  to  be  supplied,  and  its  deceptions  to  be 
corrected.  Secondly,  notions  are  ill  drawn  from  the  impression 


48  BACON 

of  the  senses,  and  are  indefinite  and  confused,  whereas  they 
should  be  definite  and  distinctly  bounded.  Thirdly,  the  induction 
is  amiss  which  infers  the  principles  of  sciences  by  simple  enume- 
ration, and  does  not,  as' it  ought,  employ  exclusions  and  solutions 
(or  separations)  of  nature.  Lastly,  that  method  of  discovery  and 
proof  according  to  which  the  most  general  principles  are  first 
established,  and  then  intermediate  axioms  are  tried  and  proved 
by  them,  is  the  parent  of  error  and  the  curse  of  all  science.  Of 
these  things  however,  which  now  I  do  but  touch  upon,  I  will 
speak  more  largely,  when,  having  performed  these  expiations  and 
purgings  of  the  mind,  I  c.ome  to  set  forth  the  true  way  |or  the 
interpretation  of  nature. 


"INDUCTION" 


xcn 

But  by  far  the  greatest' obstacle  to  the  progress  of  science  and 
to  the  undertaking  of  new  tasks  and  provinces  therein,  is  found 
in  this  —  that  men  despair  and  think  things  impossible.  For  wise 
and  serious  men  are  wont  in  these  matters  to  be  altogether  dis- 
trustful; considering  with  themselves  the  obscurity  of  nature, 
the  shortness  of  life,  the  deceitfulness  of  the  senses,  the  weakness 
of  the  judgment,  the  difficulty  of  experiment  and  the  like;  and 
so  supposing  that  in  the  revolution  of  time  and  of  the  ages  of  the 
world  the  sciences  have  their  ebbs  and  flows;  that  at  one  season 
they  grow  and  flourish,  at  another  wither  and  decay,  yet  in  such 
sort  that  when  they  have  reached  a  certain  point  and  condition 
they  can  advance  no  further.  If  therefore  any  one  believes  or 
promises  more,  they  think  this  comes  of  an  ungoverned  and  un- 
ripened  mind,  and  that  such  attempts  have  prosperous  beginnings, 
become  difficult  as  they  go  on,  and  end  in  confusion.  Now  since 
these  are  thoughts  which  naturally  present  themselves  to  grave 
men  and  of  great  judgment,  we  must  take  good  heed  that  we  be 
not  led  away  by  our  love  for  a  most  fair  and  excellent  object  to 
relax  or  dimmish  the  severity  of  our  judgment;  we  must  observe 
diligently  what  encouragement  dawns  upon  us  and  from  what 
quarter;  and,  putting  aside  the  lighter  breezes  of  hope,  we  must 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  49 

thoroughly  sift  and  examine  those  which  promise  greater  steadi- 
ness and  constancy.  Nay,  and  we  must  take  state-prudence  too 
into  our  counsels,  whose  rule  is  to  distrust,  and  to  take  the  less 
favourable  view  of  human  affairs.  I  am  now  therefore  to  speak 
touching  Hope;  especially  as  I  am  not  a  dealer  in  promises,  and 
wish  neither  to  force  nor  to  ensnare  men's  judgments,  but  to  lead 
them  by  the  hand  with  their  good  will.  And  though  the  strongest 
means  of  inspiring  hope  will  be  to  bring  men  to  particulars; 
especially  to  particulars  digested  and  arranged  in  my  Tables  of 
Discovery  (the  subject  partly  of  the  second,  but  much  more  of 
the  fourth  part  of  my  Instauration),  since  this  is  not  merely  the 
promise  of  the  thing  but  the  thing  itself;  nevertheless  that  every- 
thing rriay  be  done  with  gentleness,  I  will  proceed  with  my  plan 
of  preparing  men's  minds;  of  which  preparation  to  give  hope 
is  no  unimportant  part.  For  without  it  the  rest  tends  rather  to 
make  men  sad  (by  giving  them  a  worse  and  meaner  opinion  of 
things  as  they  are  than  they  now  have,  and  making  them  more 
fully  to  feel  and  know  the  unhappiness  of  their  own  condition) 
than  to  induce  any  alacrity  or  to  whet  their  industry  in  making 
trial.  And  therefore  it  is  fit  that  I  publish  and  set  forth  those 
conjectures  of  mine  which  make  hope  in  this  matter  reasonable; 
just  as  Columbus  did,  before  that  wonderful  voyage  of  his  across 
the  Atlantic,  when  he  gave  the  reasons  for  his  conviction  that 
new  lands  and  continents  might  be  discovered  besides  those  which 
were  known  before ;  which  reasons,  though  rejected  at  first,  were 
afterwards  made  good  by  experience,  and  were  the  causes  and 
beginnings  of  great  events. 

N  ,        xcin 

The  beginning  is  from  God !  for  the  business  which  is  in  hand, 
having  the  character  of  good  so  strongly  impressed  upon  it,  ap- 
pears manifestly  to  proceed  from  God,  who  is  the  author  of 
good,  and  the  Father  of  Lights.  Now  in  divine  operations  even 
the  smallest  beginnings  lead  of  a  certainty  to  their  end.  And 
as  it  was  said  of  spiritual  things,  "The  kingdom  of  God  cometh 
not  with  observation/'  so  is  it  in  all  the  greater  works  of  Divine 
Providence;  everything  glidesjm^.sjaaoothly  and  noiselessly,  and 
the  work  is  fairly  going  on  before  men  are  aware  that  it  has  begun. 


50  BACON 

Nor  should  the  prophecy  of  Daniel  be  forgotten,  touching  the 
last  ages  of  the  world:  "Many  shall  go  to  and  fro,  and  know- 
ledge shall  be  increased;"  clearly  intimating  that  the  thorough 
passage  of  the  world  (which  now  by  so  many  distant  voyages 
seems  to  be  accomplished,  or  in  course  of  accomplishment), 
and  the  advancement  of  the  sciences,  are  destined  by  fate,  that 
is,  by  Divine  Providence,  to  meet  in  the  same  age. 

xciv 

Next  comes  a  consideration  of  the  greatest  importance  as  an 
argument  of  hope;  I  mean  that  drawn  from  the  errors  of  past 
time,  and  of  the  ways  hitherto  trodden.  For  most  excellent  was 
the  censure  once  passed  upon  a  Government  that  had  been  un- 
wisely administered.  "That  which  is  the  worst  thing  in  reference 
to  the  past,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  best  for  the  future.  For  if 
you  had  done  all  that  your  duty  demanded,  and  yet  your  affairs 
were  no  better,  you  would  not  have  even  a  hope  left  you  that 
further  improvement  is  possible.  But  now,  when  your  misfor- 
tunes are  owing,  not  to  the  force  of  circumstances,  but  to  your 
own  errors,  you  may  hope  that  by  dismissing  or  correcting  these 
errors,  a  great  change  may  be  made  for  the  better."  In  like  man- 
ner, if  during  so  long  a  course  of  years  men  had  kept  the  true 
road  for  discovering  and  cultivating  sciences,  and  had  yet  been 
unable  to  make  further  progress  therein,  bold  doubtless  and 
rash  would  be  the  opinion  that  further  progress  is  possible.  But 
if  the  road  itself  has  been  mistaken,  and  men's  labour  spent 
on  unfit  objects,  it  follows  that  the  difficulty  has  its  rise  not  in 
things  themselves,  which  are  not  in  our  power,  but  in  the  human 
understanding,  and  the  use  and  application  thereof,  which  ad- 
mits of  remedy  and  medicine.  It  will  be  of  great  use  there- 
fore to  set  forth  what  these  errors  are ;  for  as  many  impediments 
as  there  have  been  in  times  past  from  this  cause,  so  many  argu- 
ments are  there  of  hope  for  the  time  to  come.  And  although 
they  have  been  partly  touched  before,  I  think  fit  here  also,  in 
plain  and  simple  words,  to  represent  them. 

xcv 

Those  who  have  handled  sciences  have  been  either  men  of 
experiment  or  men  of  dogmas.  The  men  of  experiment  are  like 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  51 

the  ant ;  they  only  collect  and  use :  the  reasoners  resemble  spiders, 
who  make  cobwebs  out  of  their  own  substance.  But  the  bee  takes 
a  middle  course ;  it  gathers  its  material  from  the  flowers  of  the 
garden  and  of  the  field,  but  transforms  and  digests  it  by  a  power 
of  its  own.  Not  unlike  this  is  the  true  business  of  philosophy; 
for  it  neither  relies  solely  or  chiefly  on  the  powers  of  the  mind, 
nor  does  it  take  the  matter  which  it  gathers  from  natural  history 
and  mechanical  experiments  and  lay  it  up  in  the  memory  whole, 
as  it  finds  it;  but  lays  it  up  in  the  understanding  altered  and 
digested.  Therefore  from  a  closer  and  purer  league  between 
these  two  faculties,  the  experimental  and  the  rational  (such-fas 
has  never  yet  been  made),  much  may  be  hoped. 

xcvi 

We  have  as  yet  no  natural  philosophy  that  is  pure ;  all  is  tainted 
and  corrupted;  in  Aristotle's  school  by  logic;  in  Plato's  by 
natural  theology;  in  the  second  school  of  Platonists,  such  as 
Proclus  and  others,  by  mathematics,  which  ought  only  to  give 
definiteness  to  natural  philosophy,  not  to  generate  or  give  it 
birth.  From  a  natural  philosophy  pure  and  unmixed,  better 
things  are  to  be  expected. 

XCVII 

No  one  has  yet  been  found  so  firm  of  mind  and  purpose  as 
resolutely  to  compel  himself  to  sweep  away  all  theories  and  com- 
mon notions,  and  to  apply  the  understanding,  thus  made  fair 
and  even,  to  a  fresh  examination  of  particulars.  Thus  it  happens 
that  human  knowledge,  as  we  have  it,  is  a  mere  medley  and  ill-  ] 
digested  mass,  made  up  of  much  credulity  and  much  accident,  I 
and  also  of  the  childish  notions  which  we  at  first  imbibed. 

Now  if  any  one  of  ripe  age,  unimpaired  senses,  and  well-purged 
mind,  apply  himself  anew  to  experience  and  particulars,  better 
hopes  may  be  entertained  of  that  man.  In  which  point  I  promise 
to  myself  a  like  fortune  to  that  of  Alexander  the  Great;  and  let 
no  man  tax  me  with  vanity  till  he  have  heard  the  end;  for  the 
thing  which  I  mean  tends  to  the  putting  off  of  all  vanity.  For 
of  Alexander  and  ms  deeds  ^Eschines  spake  thus:  "Assuredly 
we  do  not  live  the  life  of  mortal  men;  but  to  this  end  were  we 
born,  that  in  after  ages  wonders  might  be  told  of  us;"  as  if  what 


52  BACON 

Alexander  had  done  seemed  to  him  miraculous.  But  in  the  next 
age  Titus  Livius  took  a  better  and  a  deeper  view  of  the  matter, 
saying  in  effect,  that  Alexander  "had  done  no  more  than  take 
courage  to  despise  vain  apprehensions."  And  a  like  judgment 
I  suppose  may  be  passed  on  myself  in  future  ages:  that  I  did 
no  great  things,  but  simply  made  less  account  of  things  that  were 
accounted  great.  In  the  meanwhile,  as  I  have  already  said,  there 
is  no  hope  except  in  a  new  birth  of  science;  that  is,  in  raising 
it  regularly  up  from  experience  and  building  it  afresh;  which 
no  one  (I  think)  will  say  has  yet  been  done  or  thought  of. 

XCVIII 

Now  for  grounds  of  experience  —  since  to  experience  we  must 
come  —  we  have  as  yet  had  either,  none  or  very  weak  ones ;  no 
search  has  been  made  to  collect  a  store  of  particular  observations 
sufficient  either  in  number,  or  in  kind,  or  in  certainty,  to  inform 
the  understanding,  or  in  any  way  adequate.  On  the  contrary, 
men  of  learning,  but  easy  withal  arid  idle,  have  taken  for  the 
construction  or  for  the  confirmation  of  their  philosophy  certain 
rumours  and  vague  fames  or  airs  of  experience,  and  allowed  to 
these  the  weight  of  lawful  evidence.  And  just  as  if  some  king- 
dom or  state  were  to  direct  its  counsels  and  affairs,  not  by  letters 
and  reports  from  ambassadors  and  trustworthy  messengers,  but 
by  the  gossip  of  the  streets;  such  exactly  is  the  system  of  man- 
agement introduced  into  philosophy  with  relation  to  experience. 
Nothing  duly  investigated,  nothing  verified,  nothing  counted. 
w£Jghed?  or  measured,  is  to  be  found  in  natural  history :  and 
what  in  observation  is  loose  and  vague,  is  in  information  decep- 
tive and  treacherous.  And  if  any  one  thinks  that  this  is  a  strange 
thing  to  say,  and  something  like  an  unjust  complaint,  seeing 
that  Aristotle,  himself  so  great  a  man,  and  supported  by  the 
wealth  of  so  great  a  king,  has  composed  so  accurate  a  history 
of  animals;  and  that  others  with  greater  diligence,  though  less 
pretence,  have  made  many  additions;  while  others,  again,  have 
compiled  copious  histories  and  descriptions  of  metals,  plants, 
and  fossils;  it  seems  that  he  does  not  rightly  apprehend  what  it 
is  that  we  are  now  about.  For  a  natural  history  which  is  com- 
posed for  its  own  sake  is  not  like  one  that  is  collected  to  supply 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  53 

the  understanding  with  information  for  the  building  up  of 
philosophy.  They  differ  in  many  ways,  but  especially  in  this; 
that  the  former  contains  the  variety  of  natural  species  only,  and 
not  experiment  of  the  mechanical  arts.  For  even  as  in  the  busi- 
ness of  life  a  man's  disposition  and  the  secret  workings  of  his 
mind  and  affections  are  better  discovered  when  he  is  in  trouble 
than  at  other  times;  so  likewise  the  secrets  of  Nature  reveal 
themselves  more  readily  under  the  vexations  of  art  than  when 
they  go  their  own  way.  Good  hopes  may  therefore  be  con- 
ceived of  natural  philosophy,  when  natural  history,  which  is 
the  basis  and  foundation  of  it,  has  been  drawn  up  on  a  better 
plan ;  but  not  till  then. 

xcix 

Again,  even  in  the  great  plenty  of  mechanical  experiments, 
there  is  yet  a  great  scarcity  of  those  which  are  of  most  use  for  the 
information  of  the  understanding.  For  the  mechanic,  not  trou- 
bling himself  with  the  investigation  of  truth,  confines  his  atten- 
tion to  those  things  which  bear  upon  his  particular  work,  and 
will  not  either  raise  his  mind  or  stretch  out  his  hand  for  anything 
else.  But  then  only  will  there  be  good  ground  of  hope  for  the 
further  advance  of  knowledge,  when  there  shall  be  received  and 
gathered  together  into  natural  history  a  variety  of  experiments, 
which  are  of  no  use  in  themselves,  but  simply  serve  to  discover 
causes  and  axioms ;  which  I  call  "  Experimenta  lucifera"  expe- 
riments of  light,  to  distinguish  them  from  those  which  I  call 
"  fructifera"  experiments  of  fruit. 

Now  experiments  of  this  kind  have  one  admirable  property 
and  condition;  they  never  miss  or  fail.  For  since  they  are  ap- 
plied, not  for  the  purpose  of  producing  any  particular  effect,  but 
only  of  discovering  the  natural  cause  of  some  effect,  they  answer 
the  end  equally  well  which  ever  way  they  turn  out;  for  they 
settle  the  question. 

c 

But  not  only  is  a  greater  abundance  of  experiments  to  be  sought 
for  and  procured,  and  that  too  of  a  different  kind  from  those 
hitherto  tried;  an  entirely  different  method,  order,  and  proce: 
for  carrying  on  and  advancing  experience  must  also  be  intrc 


54  BACON 

duced.  For  experience,  when  it  wanders  in  its  own  track,  is,  as 
I  have  already  remarked,  mere  groping  in  the  dark,  and  con- 
founds men  rather  than  instructs  them.  But  when  it  shall  pro- 
ceed in  accordance  with  a  fixed  law,  in  regular  order,  and  without 
interruption,  then  may  better  things  be  hoped  of  knowledge. 

ci 

But  even  after  such  a  store  of  natural  history  and  experience 
as  is  required  for  the  work  of  the  understanding,  or  of  philosophy, 
shall  be  ready  to  hand,  still  the  understanding  is  by  no  means 
competent  to  deal  with  it  off-hand  and  by  memory  alone;  no 
more  than  if  a  man  should  hope  by  force  of  memory  to  retain  and 
make  himself  master  of  the  computation  of  an  ephemeris.  And 
yet  hitherto  more  has  been  done  in  matter  of  invention  by  think- 
ing than  by  writing;  and  experience  has  not  yet  learned  her 
letters.  Now  no  course  of  invention  can  be  satisfactory  unless 
it  be  carried  on  in  writing.  But  when  this  is  brought  into  use, 
and  experience  has  been  taught  to  read  and  write,  better  things 
may  be  hoped. 

en 

Moreover,  since  there  is  so  great  a  number  and  army  of  par- 
ticulars, and  that  army  so  scattered  and  dispersed  as  to  distract 
and  confound  the  understanding,  little  is  to  be  hoped  for  from 
the  skirmishings  and  slight  attacks  and  desultory  movements 
of  the  intellect,  unless  all  the  particulars  which  pertain  to  the 
subject  of  inquiry  shall,  by  means  of  Tables  of  Discovery,  apt, 
well  arranged,  and  as  it  were  animate,  be  drawn  up  and  mar- 
shalled; and  the  mind  be  set  to  work  upon  the  helps  duly  pre- 
pared and  digested  which  these  tables  supply. 

cm 

But  after  this  store  of  particulars  has  been  set  out  duly  and  in 
order  before  our  eyes,  we  are  not  to  pass  at  once  to  the  investiga- 
tion and  discovery  of  new  particulars  or  works;  or  at  any  rate  if 
we  do  so  we  must  not  stop  there.  For  although  I  do  not  deny  that 
when  all  the  experiments  of  all  the  arts  shall  have  been  collected 
and  digested,  and  brought  within  one  man's  knowledge  and 
judgment,  the  mere  transferring  of  the  experiments  of  one  art 
to  others  may  lead,  by  means  of  that  experience  which  I  term 


NOVUM  ORGANUM  55 

literate,  to  the  discovery  of  many  new  things  of  service  to  the 
life  and  state  of  man,  yet  it  is  no  great  matter  that  can  be  hoped 
from  that;  but  from  the  new  light  of  axioms,  which  having  been 
educed  from  those  particulars  by  a  certain  method  and  rule, 
shall  in  their  turn  point  out  the  way  again  to  new  particulars, 
greater  things  may  be  looked  for.  For  our  road  does  not  lie  on 
a  level,  but  ascends  and  descends;  first  ascending  to  axioms, 
then  descending  to  works. 

civ 

The  understanding  must  not  however  be  allowed  to  jump  and 
fly  from  particulars  to  remote  axioms  and  of  almost  the  highest 
generality  (such  as  the  first  principles,  as  they  are  called,  of  arts 
and  things),  and  taking  stand  upon  them  as  truths  that  cannot 
be  shaken,  proceed  to  prove  and  frame  the  middle  axioms  by 
reference  to  them;  which  has  been  the  practice  hitherto;  .the 
understanding  being  not  only  carried  that  way  by  a  natural  im- 
pulse, but  also  by  the  use  of  syllogistic  demonstration  trained 
and  inured  to  it.  But  then,  and  then  only,  may  we  hope  well 
of  the  sciences,  when  in  a  just  scale  of  ascent,  and  by  successive 
steps  not  interrupted  or  broken,  we  rise  from  particulars  to  lesser 
axioms;  and  then  to  middle  axioms,  one  above  the  other;  and 
last  of  all  to  the  most  general.  For  the  lowest  axioms  differ  but 
slightly  from  bare  experience,  while  the  highest  and  most  general 
(which  we  now  have)  are  notional  and  abstract  and  without 
solidity.  But  the  middle  are  the  true  and  solid  and  living  axioms, 
on  which  depend  the  affairs  and  fortunes  of  men;  and  above 
them  again,  last  of  all,  those  which  are  indeed  the  most  general; 
such  I  mean  as  are  not  abstract,  but  of  which  those  intermediate 
axioms  are  really  limitations. 

The  understanding  must  not  therefore  be  supplied  with 
wings,  but  rather  hung  with  weights,  to  keep  it  from  leaping  and 
flying.  Now  this  has  never  yet  been  done;  when  it  is  done,  we 
may  entertain  better  hopes  of  the  sciences. 

cv 

In  establishing  axioms,  another  form  of  induction  must  be 
devised  than  has  hitherto  been  employed;  and  it  must  be  used 
for  proving  and  discovering  not  first  principles  (as  they  are  called) 


56  BACON 

only,  but  also  the  lesser  axioms,  and  the  middle,  and  indeed  all. 
For  the  induction  which  proceeds  by  simple  enumeration  is 
childish;  its  conclusions  are  precarious,  and  exposed  to  peril 
from  a  contradictory  instance;  and  it  generally  decides  on  too 
small  a  number  of  facts,  and  on  those  only  which  are  at  hand. 
But  the  induction  which  is  to  be  available  for  the  discovery  and 
demonstration  of  sciences  and  arts,  must  analyse  nature  by 
proper  rejections  and  exclusions;  and 'then,  after  a  sufficient 
number  of  negatives,  come  to  a  conclusion  on  the  affirmative 
instances :  which  has  not  yet  been  done  or  even  attempted,  save 
only  by  Plato,  who  does  indeed  employ  this  form  of  induction 
to  a  certain  extent  for  the  purpose  of  discussing  definitions  and 
ideas.  But  in  order  to  furnish  this  induction  or  demonstration 
well  and  duly  for  its  work,  very  many  things  are  to  be  provided 
which  no  mortal  has  yet  thought  of;  insomuch  that  greater  labour 
will  have  to  be  spent  in  it  than  has  hitherto  been  spent  on  the 
syllogism.  And  this  induction  must  be  used  not  only  to  discover 
axioms,  but  also  in  the  formation  of  notions.  And  it  is  in  this  in- 
duction that  our  chief  hope  lies. 

cvi 

But  in  establishing  axioms  by  this  kind  of  induction,  we  must 
also  examine  and  try  whether  the  axiom  so  established  be  framed 
to  the  measure  of  those  particulars  only  from  which  it  is  derived, 
or  whether  it  be  larger  and  wider.  And  if  it  be  larger  and  wider, 
we  must  observe  whether  by  indicating  to  us  new  particulars  it 
confirm  that  wideness  and  largeness  as  by  a  collateral  security; 
that  we  may  not  either  stick  fast  in  things  already  known,  or 
loosely  grasp  at  shadows  and  abstract  form;  not  at  things  solid 
and  realised  in  matter.  And  when  this  process  shall  have  come 
into  use,  then  at  last  shall  we  see  the  dawn  of  a  solid  hope. 


; 

THOMAS  HOBBES 

(1588-1679) 

LEVIATHAN* 

OR  THE  MATTER,  FORM,  AND  POWER  OF  A  COM- 
MONWEALTH, ECCLESIASTICAL  AND  CIVIL 

PART  I.— OF  MAN 
CHAPTER  I.     OF  SENSE 

CONCERNING  the  thoughts  of  man,  I  will  consider  them  first 
singly,  and  afterwards  in  train,  or  dependence  .upon  one  another. 
Singly,  they  are  every  one  a  representation  or  appearance,  of  som* 
quality,  or  other  accident  of  a  body  without  us,  which  is  com- 
monly called  an  object.  Which  object  worketh  on  the  eyes,  ears, 
and  other  parts  of  a  man's  body;  and  by  diversity  of  working, 
produceth  diversity  of  appearances. 

The  original  of  them  all,  is  that  which  we  call  SENSE,  for  there 
is  no  conception  in  a  mail's  mind,  which  hath  not  at  first,  totally 
or  by  parts,  been  begotten  upon  the  organs  of  sense.  The  rest 
are  derived  from  that  original. 

To  know  the  natural  cause  of  sense,  is  not  very  necessary  to 
the  business  now  in  hand ;  and  I  have  elsewhere  written  of  th» 
same  at  large.  Nevertheless,  to  fill  each  part  of  my  present 
method,  I  will  briefly  deliver  the  same  in  this  place. 

The  cause  of  sense,  is  the  external  body,  or  object,  which 
presseth  the  organ  proper  to  each  sense,  either  immediately,  as 
in  the  taste  and  touch;  or  mediately,  as  in  seeing,  hearing,  and 
smelling;  which  pressure,  by  the  mediation  of  the  nerves,  and 
other  strings  and  membranes  of  the  body,  continued  inwards 
to  the  brain  and  heart,  causeth  there  a  resistance,  or  counter 

*  Leviathan,  first  edition,  London,  1651.  Reprinted  here  from  Hobbes'  Eng- 
lish Works,  collected  and  edited  by  Sir  William  Molesworth,  London,  1839, 
vol.  iii. 


58  HOBBES 

pressure  or  endeavour  of  the  heart  to  deliver  itself,  which  en- 
deavour, because  outward,  seemeth  to  be  some  matter  without. 
And  this  seeming,  or  fancy,  is  that  which  men  call  sense;  and 
consisteth,  as  to  the  eye,  in  a  light,  or  colour  figured;  to  the  ear,  in 
a  sound;  to  the  nostril,  in  an  odour;  to  the  tongue  and  palate,  in 
a  savour;  and  to  the  rest  of  the  body,  in  heat,  cold,  hardness,  soft- 
ness, and  such  other  qualities  as  we  discern  by  feeling.  All  which 
qualities,  called  sensible,  are  in  the  object,  that  causeth  them,  but 
so  many  several  motions  of  the  matter,  by  which  it  presseth  our 
organs  diversely.  Neither  in  us  that  are  pressed,  are  they  any- 
thing else,  but  divers  motions;  for  motion  produceth  nothing 
but  motion.  But  their  appearance  to  us  is  fancy,  the  same  waking, 
that  dreaming.  And  as  pressing,  rubbing,  or  striking  the  eye, 
makes  us  fancy  a  light;  and  pressing  the  ear,  produceth  a  din; 
;o  do  the  bodies  also  we  see,  or  hear,  produce  the  same  by  their 
strong,  though  unobserved  action.  For  if  those  colours  and 
sounds  were  in  the  bodies,  or  objects  that  cause  them,  they  could 
not  be  severed  from  them,  as  by  glasses,  and  in  echoes  by  re- 
flection, we  see  they  are;  where  we  know  the  thing  we  see  is  in 
one  place,  the  appearance  in  another.  And  though  at  some 
certain  distance,  the  real  and  very  object  seem  invested  with  the 
fancy  it  begets  in  us;  yet  still  the  object  is  one  thing,  the  image  or 
fancy  is  another.  So  that  sense,  in  all  cases,  is  nothing  else  but 
original  fancy,  caused,  as  I  have  said,  by  the  pressure,  that  is, 
by  the  motion,  of  external  things  upon  our  eyes,  ears,  and  other 
organs  thereunto  ordained. 

But  the  philosophy- schools,  through  all  the  universities  of 
Christendom,  grounded  upon  certain  texts  of  Aristotle,  teach 
another  doctrine,  and  say,  for  the  cause  of  vision,  that  the  thing 
seen,  sendeth  forth  on  every  side  a  visible  species,  in  English, 
a  visible  show,  apparition,  or  aspect,  or  a  being  seen;  the  receiving 
whereof  into  the  eye,  is  seeing.  And  for  the  cause  of  hearing, 
that  the  thing  heard,  sendeth  forth  an  audible  species,  that  is  an 
audible  aspect,  or  audible  being  seen;  which  entering  at  the  ear, 
maketh  hearing.  Nay,  for  the  cause  of  understanding  also,  they 
say  the  thing  understood,  sendeth  forth  an  intelligible  species, 
that  is,  an  intelligible  being  seen;  which,  coming  into  the  under- 


LEVIATHAN  59 

standing,  makes  us  understand.  I  say  not  this,  as  disproving  the 
use  of  universities;  but  because  I  am  to  speak  hereafter  of  their 
office  in  a  commonwealth,  I  must  let  you  see  on  all  occasions  by 
the  way,  what  things  would  be  amended  in  them;  amongst  which 
the  frequency  of  insignificant  speech  is  one. 

CHAPTER  II.     OF  IMAGINATION 

That  when  a  thing  lies  still,  unless  somewhat  else  stir  it,  it  will 
lie  still  for  ever,  is  a  truth  that  no  man  doubts  of.  But  that  when 
a  thing  is  in  motion,  it  will  eternally  be  in  motion,  unless  some- 
what else  stay  it,  though  the  reason  be  the  same,  namely,  that 
nothing  can  change  itself,  is  not  so  easily  assented  to.  For  men 
measure,  not  only  other  men,  but  all  other  things,  by  themselves; 
and  because  they  find  themselves  subject  after  motion  to  pain,*- 
and  lassitude,  think  everything  else  grows  weary  of  motion,  and 
seeks  repose  of  its  own  accord;  little  considering,  whether  it  be  • 
not  some  other  motion,  wherein  that  desire  of  rest  they  find  in 
themselves,  consisteth.  From  hence  it  is,  that  the  schools  say, 
heavy  bodies  fall  downwards,  out  of  an  appetite  to  rest,  and  to 
conserve  their  nature  in  that  place  which  is  most  proper  for  them ; 
ascribing  appetite,  and  knowledge  of  what  is  good  for  their 
conservation,  which  is  more  than  man  has,  to  things  inanimate, 
absurdly. 

When  a  body  is  once  in  motion,  it  moveth,  unless  something 
else  hinder  it,  eternally;  and  whatsoever  hindreth  it,  cannot  in  an 
instant,  but  in  time,  and  by  degrees,  quite  extinguish  it ;  and  as 
we  see  in  the  water,  though  the  wind  cease,  the  waves  give  not 
over  rolling  for  a  long  time  after:  so  also  it  happeneth  in  that 
motion,  which  is  made  in  the  internal  parts  of  a  man,  then,  when 
he  sees,  dreams,  &c.  For  after  the  object  is  removed,  or  the 
eye  shut,  we  still  retain  an  image  of  the  thing  seen,  though  more 
obscure  than  when  we  see  it.  And  this  is  it,  the  Latins  call  im- 
agination, from  the  image  made  in  seeing;  and  apply  the  same, 
though  improperly,  to  all  the  other  senses.  But  the  Greeks  call  it 
fancy;  which  signifies  appearance,  and  is  as  proper  to  one  sense, 
as  to  another.  IMAGINATION,  therefore,  is  nothing  but  decaying 


60  HOBBES 

sense;  and  is  found  in  men,  and  many  other  living  creatures,  as 
well  sleeping,  as  waking. 

The  decay  of  sense  in  men  waking,  is  not  the  decay  of  the 
motion  made  in  sense;  but  an  obscuring  of  it,  in  such  manner 
as  the  light  of  the  sun  obscureth  the  light  of  the  stars;  which 
stars  do  no  less  exercise  their  virtue,  by  which  they  are  visible, 
in  the  day  than  in  the  night.  But  because  amongst  many  strokes, 
which  our  eyes,  ears,  and  other  organs  receive  from  external 
bodies,  the  predominant  only  is  sensible;  therefore,  the  light  of 
the  sun  being  predominant,  we  are  not  affected  with  the  action  of 
the  stars.  And  any  object  being  removed  from  our  eyes,  though 
the  impression  it  made  in  us  remain,  yet  other  objects  more  present 
succeeding,  and  working  on  us,  the  imagination  of  the  past  is 
obscured,  and  made  weak,  as  the  voice  of  a  man  is  in  the  noise 
of  the  day.  From  whence  it  followeth,  that  the  longer  the  time 
is,  after  the  sight  or  sense  of  any  object,  the  weaker  is  the  imagi- 
nation. For  the  continual  change  of  man's  body  destroys  in  time 
the  parts  which  in  sense  were  moved:  so  that  distance  of  time, 
and  of  place,  hath  one  and  the  same  effect  in  us.  For  as  at  a  great 
distance  of  place,  that  which  we  look  at  appears  dim,  and  without 
distinction  of  the  smaller  parts;  and  as  voices  grow  weak,  and 
inarticulate;  so  also,  after  great  distance  of  time,  our  imagina- 
tion of  the  past  is  weak;  and  we  lose,  for  example,  of  cities  we 
have  seen,  many  particular  streets,  and  of  actions,  many  particular 
circumstances.  This  decaying  sense,  when  we  would  express  the 
thing  itself,  I  mean  fancy  itself,  we  call  imagination,  as  I  said 
before :  but  when  we  would  express  the  decay,  and  signify  that 
the  sense  is  fading,  old,  and  past,  it  is  called  memory.  So  that 
imagination  and  memory  are  but  one  thing,  which  for  divers 
considerations  hath  divers  names. 

Much  memory,  or  memory  of  many  things,  is  called  experi- 
ence. Again,  imagination  being  only  of  those  things  which  have 
been  formerly  perceived  by  sense,  either  all  at  once,  or  by  parts 
at  several  times,  the  former,  which  is  the  imagining  the  whole 
object  as  it  was  presented  to  the  sense,  is  simple  imagination,  as 
when  one  imagineth  a  man,  or  horse,  which  he  hath  seen  before. 
The  other  is  compounded;  as  when,  from  the  sight  of  a  man  at  one 


LEVIATHAN  61 

time,  and  of  a  horse  at  another,  we  conceive  in  our  mind  a 
Centaur.  So  when  a  man  compoundeth  the  image  of  his  own 
person  with  the  image  of  the  actions  of  another  man,  as  when  a 
man  imagines  himself  a  Hercules  or  an  Alexander,  which  hap- 
peneth  often  to  them  that  are  much  taken  with  reading  of 
romances,  it  is  a  compound  imagination,  and  properly  but  a 
fiction  of  the  mind.  There  be  also  other  imaginations  that  rise 
in  men,  though  waking,  from  the  great  impression  made  in 
sense:  as  from  gazing -upon  the  sun,  the  impression  leaves  an 
image  of  the  sun  before  our  eyes  a  long  time  after;  and  from 
being  long  and  vehemently  attent  upon  geometrical  figures,  a 
man  shall  in  the  dark,  though  awake,  have  the  images  of  lines 
and  angles  before  his  eyes;  which  kind  of  fancy  hath  no  particular 
name,  as  being  a  thing  that  doth  not  commonly  fall  into  men's 
discourse. 

The  imaginations  of  them  that  sleep  are  those  we  call  dreams. 
And  these  also,  as  also  all  other  imaginations,  have  been  before, 
either  totally  or  by  parcels,  in  the  sense.  And  because  in  sense, 
the  brain  and  nerves,  which  are  the  necessary  organs  of  sense, 
are  so  benumbed  in  sleep  as  not  easily  to  be  moved  by  the  action 
of  external  objects,  there  can  happen  in  sleep  no  imagination, 
and  therefore  no  dream,  but  what  proceeds  from  the  agitation 
of  the  inward  parts  of  man's  body;  which  inward  parts;  for  the 
connexion  they  have  with  the  brain,  and  other  organs,  w.hen 
they  be  distempered,  do  keep  the  same  in  motion;  whereby  the 
imaginations  there  formerly  made  appear  as  if  a  man  were 
waking;  saving  that  the  organs  of  sense  being  now  benumbed, 
so  as  there  is  no  new  object,  which  can  master  and  obscure  them 
with  a  more  vigorous  impression,  a  dream  must  needs  be  more 
clear,  in  this  silence  of  sense,  than  our  waking  thoughts.  And 
hence  it  cometh  to  pass,  that  it  is  a  hard  matter,  and  by  many 
thought  impossible,  to  distinguish  exactly  between  ser^se  and 
dreaming.  For  my  pi*  t,  when  I  consider  that  in  dreams  I  do  not 
often  nor  constantly  think  of  the  same  persons,  places,  objects, 
and  actions,  that  I  do  waking;  nor  remember  so  long  a  train  of 
coherent  thoughts,  dreaming,  as  at  other  times;  and  because 
waking  I  often  observe  the  absurdity  of  dreams,  but  never  dream 


62  HOBBES 

of  the  absurdities  of  my  waking  thoughts;  I  am  well  satisfied, 
that  being  awake,  I  know  I  dream  not,  though  when  I  dream  I 
think  myself  awake. 

And  seeing  dreams  are  caused  by  the  distemper  of  some  of  the 
inward  parts  of  the  body,  divers  distempers  must  needs  cause 
different  dreams.  And  hence  it  is  that  lying  cold  breedeth  dreams 
of  fear,  and  raiseth  the  thought  and  image  of  some  fearful  object, 
the  motion  from  the  brain  to  the  inner  parts  and  from  the  inner 
parts  to  the  brain  being  reciprocal;  and  that  as  anger  causeth 
heat  in  some  parts  of  the  body  when  we  are  awake,  so  when 
we  sleep  the  overheating  of  the  same  parts  causeth  anger,  and 
raiseth  up  in  the  brain  the  imagination  of  an  enemy.  In  the  same 
manner,  as  natural  kindness,  when  we  are  awake,  causeth  desire, 
and  desire  makes  heat  in  certain  other  parts  of  the  body;  so  also 
too  much  heat  in  those  parts,  while  we  sleep,  raiseth  in  the  brain 
an  imagination  of  some  kindness  shown.  In  sum,  our  dreams 
are  the  reverse  of  our  waking  imaginations;  the  motion  when  we 
are  awake  beginning  at  one  end,  and  when  we  dream  at  another. 

The  most  difficult  discerning  of  a  man's  dream,  from  his 
waking  thoughts,  is  then,  when  by  some  accident  we  observe 
not  that  we  have  slept :  which  is  easy  to  happen  to  a  man  full 
of  fearful  thoughts,  and  whose  conscience  is  much  troubled; 
and  that  sleepeth,  without  the  circumstances  of  going  to  bed  or 
putting  off  his  clothes,  as  one  that  noddeth  in  a  chair.  For  he 
that  taketh  pains,  and  industriously  lays  himself  to  sleep,  in  case 
any  uncouth  and  exorbitant  fancy  come  unto  him,  cannot  easily 
think  it  other  than  a  dream.  We  read  of  Marcus  Brutus  (one 
that  had  his  life  given  him  by  Julius  Caesar,  and  was  also  his 
favourite,  and  notwithstanding  murdered  him),  how  at  Philippi, 
the  night  before  he  gave  battle  to  Augustus  Caesar,  he  saw  a 
fearful  apparition,  which  is  commonly  related  by  historians  as  a 
vision;  but  considering  the  circumstances.  ay  easily  judge 

to  have  been  but  a  short  dream.  For  sittr  >  in  us  tent,  pensive 
and  troubled  with  the  horror  of  his  rasv  it  was  not  hard 

for  him,  slumbering  in  the  cold,  to  dre  that  which  most 

affrighted  him;  which  fear,  as  by  degi  made  him  wake, 

so  also  it  must  needs  make  the  appariti  degrees  to  vanish; 


LEVIATHAN  63 

and  having  no  assurance  that  he  slept,  he  could  have  no  cause  to 
think  it  a  dream,  or  anything  but  a  vision.  And  this  is  no  very 
rare  accident ;  for  even  they  that  be  perfectly  awake,  if  they  be 
timorous  and  superstitious,  possessed  with  fearful  tales,  and  alone 
in  the  dark,  are  subject  to  the  like  fancies,  and  believe  they  see 
spirits  and  dead  men's  ghosts  walking  in  churchyards;  whereas 
it  is  either  their  fancy  only,  or  else  the  knavery  of  such  persons 
as  make  use  of  such  superstitious  fear,  to  pass  disguised  in  the 
night  to  places  they  would  not  be  known  to  haunt. 

From  this  ignorance  of  how  to  distinguish  dreams,  and  other 
strong  fancies,  from  vision  and  sense,  did  arise  the  greatest  part 
of  the  religion  of  the  Gentiles  in  time  past,  that  worshipped 
satyrs,  fawns,  nymphs,  and  the  like;  and  now-a-days  the  opinion 
that  rude  people  have  of  fairies,  ghosts,  and  goblins,  and  of  the 
power  of  witches.  For  as  for  witches,  I  think  not  that  their  witch- 
craft is  any  real  power;  but  yet  that  they  are  justly  punished, 
for  the  false  belief  they  have  that  they  can  do  such  mischief, 
joined  with  their  purpose  to  do  it  if  they  can;  their  trade  being 
nearer  to  a  new  religion  than  to  a  craft  or  science.  And  for  fairies, 
and  walking  ghosts,  the  opinion  of  them  has,  I  think,  been  on 
purpose  either  taught  or  not  confuted,  to  keep  in  credit  the  use 
of  exorcism,  of  crosses,  of  holy  water,  and  other  such  inventions 
of  ghostly  men.  Nevertheless,  there  is  no  doubt  but  God  can 
make  unnatural  apparitions;  but  that  He  does  it  so  often  as 
men  need  to  fear  such  things  more  than  they  fear  the  stay  or 
change  of  the  course  of  nature,  which  He  also  can  stay  and 
change  is  no  point  of  Christian  faith.  But  evil  men,  under  pre- 
text that  God  can  do  anything,  are  so  bold  as  to  say  any  thing 
when  it  serves  their  turn,  though  they  think  it  untrue;  it  is  the 
part  of  a  wise  man,  to  believe  them  no  farther,  than  right  reason 
makes  that  which  they  say,  appear  credible.  If  this  superstitious 
fear  of  spirits  were  taken  away,  and  with  it,  prognostics  from 
dreams,  false  prophecies,  and  many  other  things  depending 
thereon,  by  which  crafty  ambitious  persons  abuse  the  simple 
people,  men  would  be  much  more  fitted  than  they  are  for  civil 
obedience. 

And  this  ought  to  be  the  work  of  the  schools:  but  they  rather 


64  HOBBES 

nourish  such  doctrine.  For,  not  knowing  what  imagination  or 
the  senses  are,  what  they  receive  they  teach:  some  saying,  that 
imaginations  rise  of  themselves,  and  have  no  cause ;  others  that 
they  rise  most  commonly  from  the  will,  and  that  good  thoughts 
are  blown  (inspired)  into  a  man  by  God,  and  evil  thoughts  by 
the  Devil;  or  that  good  thoughts  are  poured  (infused)  into  a  man 
by  God,  and  evil  ones  by  the  Devil.  Some  say  the  senses  receive 
the  species  of  things,  and  deliver  them  to  the  common  sense ;  and 
the  common  sense  delivers  them  over  to  the  fancy,  and  the  fancy 
to  the  memory,  and  the  memory  to  the  judgment,  like  handing 
of  things  from  one  to  another,  with  many  words  making  nothing 
understood. 

The  imagination  that  is  raised  in  man,  or  any  other  creature 
indued  with  the  faculty  of  imagining,  by  words,  or  other  voluntary 
signs,  is  that  we  generally  call  understanding,  and  is  common  to 
man  and  beast.  For  a  dog  by  custom  will  understand  the  call, 
or  the  rating  of  his  master;  and  so  will  many  other  beasts.  That 
understanding  which  is  peculiar  to  man,  is  the  understanding 
not  only  his  will,  but  his  conceptions  and  thoughts,  by  the  sequel 
and  contexture  of  the  names  of  things  into  affirmations,  negations, 
and  other  forms  of  speech ;  and  of  this  kind  of  understanding  I 
shall  speak  hereafter. 

CHAPTER  III.  OF  THE  CONSEQUENCE  OR  TRAIN 
OF   IMAGINATIONS 

By  Consequence,  or  TRAIN  of  thoughts,  I  understand  that  succes- 
sion of  one  thought  to  another  which  is  called,  to  distinguish  it 
from  discourse  in  words,  mental  discourse. 

When  a  man  thinketh  on  anything  whatsoever,  his  next  thought 
after  is  not  altogether  so  casual  as  it  seems  to  be.  Not  every 
thought  to  every  thought  succeeds  indifferently.  But  as  we  have 
no  imagination,  whereof  we  have  not  formerly  had  sense,  in 
whole,  or  in  parts,  so  we  have  no  transition  from  one  imagination 
to  another,  whereof  we  never  had  the  like  before  in  our  senses. 
The  reason  whereof  is  this.  All  fancies  are  motions  within  us, 
relics  of  those  made  in  the  sense;  and  those  motions  that  imme- 


LEVIATHAN  65 

diately  succeeded  one  another  in  the  sense  continue  also  together 
after  sense ;  insomuch  as  the  former  coming  again  to  take  place 
and  be  predominant,  the  latter  followeth,  by  coherence  of  the 
matter  moved,  in  such  manner  as  water  upon  a  plane  table  is 
drawn  which  way  any  one  part  of  it  is  guided  by  the  ringer.  But 
because  in  sense,  to  one  and  the  same  thing  perceived,  sometimes 
one  thing,  sometimes  another  succeedeth,  it  comes  to  pass  in 
time,  that  in  the  imagining  of  anything,  there  is  no  certainty  what 
we  shall  imagine  next;  only  this  is  certain,  it  shall  be  something 
that  succeeded  the  same  before,  at  one  time  or  another. 

This  train  of  thoughts,  or  mental  discourse,  is  of  two  sorts. 
The  first  is  unguided,  without  design,  and  inconstant;  wherein 
there  is  no  passionate  thought  to  govern  and  direct  those  that 
follow,  to  itself,  as  the  end  and  scope  of  some  desire,  or  other 
passion :  in  which  case  the  thoughts  are  said  to  wander,  and  seem 
impertinent  one  to  another,  as  in  a  dream.  Such  are  commonly 
the  thoughts  of  men,  that  are  not  only  without  company,  but 
also  without  care  of  anything;  though  even  then  their  thoughts 
are  as  busy  as  at  other  times,  but  without  harmony;  as  the  sound 
which  a  lute  out  of  tune  would  yield  to  any  man,  or  in  tune  to 
one  that  could  not  play.  And  yet  in  this  wild  ranging  of  the  mind, 
a  man  may  oft-times  perceive  the  way  of  it,  and  the  dependence 
of  one  thought  upon  another.  For  in  a  discourse  of  our  present 
civil  war,  what  could  seem  more  impertinent  than  to  ask,  as 
one  did,  what  was  the  value  of  a  Roman  penny?  Yet  the  coher- 
ence to  me  was  manifest  enough.  For  the  thought  of  the  war, 
introduced  the  thought  of  the  delivering  up  the  king  to  his  ene- 
mies; the  thought  of  that,  brought  in  the  thought  of  the  deliver- 
ing up  of  Christ;  and  that  again  the  thought  of  the  thirty  pence, 
which  was  the  price  of  that  treason;  and  thence  easily  followed 
that  malicious  question,  and  all  this  in  a  moment  of  time;  for 
thought  is  quick. 

The  second  is  more  constant,  as  being  regulated  by  some  desire, 
and  design.  For  the  impression  made  by  such  things  as  we  desire, 
or  fear,  is  strong  and  permanent,  or,  if  it  cease  for  a  time,  of 
quick  return:  so  strong  it  is  sometimes,  as  to  hinder  and  break 
our  sleep.  From  desire,  ariseth  the  thought  of  some  means  we 


66  HOBBES 

have  seen  produce  the  like  of  that  which  we  aim  at;  and  from 
the  thought  of  that,  the  thought  of  means  to  that  means ;  and  so 
continually  till  we  come  to  some  beginning  within  our  own  power. 
And  because  the  end,  by  the  greatness  of  the  impression,  comes 
often  to  mind,  in  case  our  thoughts  begin  to  wander,  they  are 
quickly  again  reduced  into  the  way :  which  observed  by  one  of  the 
seven  wise  men,  made  him  give  men  this  precept,  which  is  now 
worn  out,  Respice  finem;  that  is  to  say,  in  all  your  actions,  look 
often  upon  what  you  would  have  as  the  thing  that  directs  all 
your  thoughts  in  the  way  to  attain  it. 

The  train  of  regulated  thoughts  is  of  two  kinds:  one,  when  of 
an  effect  imagined  we  seek  the  causes,  or  means  that  produce  it; 
and  this  is  common  to  man  and  beast.  The  other  is,  when  ima- 
gining anything  whatsoever,  we  seek  all  the  possible  effects  that 
can  by  it  beproduced;  that  is  to  say,  we  imagine  what  we  can 
do  withTtTwheh  we  have  it.  Of  which  I  have  not  at  any  time  seen 
any  sign,  but  in  man  only;  for  this  is  a  curiosity  hardly  incident 
to  the  nature  of  any  living  creature  that  has  no  other  passion 
but  sensual,  such  as  are  hunger,  thirst,  lust,  and  anger.  In  sum, 
the  discourse  of  the  mind,  when  it  is  governed  by  design,  is 
nothing  but  seeking,  or  the  faculty  of  invention,  which  the  Latins 
called  sagacitas,  and  solertia;  a  hunting  out  of  the  causes  of 
some  effect,  present  or  past;  or  of  the  effects  of  some  present 
or  past  cause.  Sometimes  a  man  seeks  what  he  hath  lost;  and 
from  that  place  and  time  wherein  he  misses  it,  his  mind  runs 
back,  from  place  to  place,  and  time  to  time,  to  find  where,  and 
when  he  had  it;  that  is  to  say,  to  find  some  certain  and  limited 
time  and  place,  in  which  to  begin  a  method  of  seeking.  Again, 
from  thence  his  thoughts  run  over  the  same  places  and  times,  to 
find  what  action  or  other  occasion  might  make  him  lose  it.  This 
we  call  remembrance,  or  calling  to  mind :  the  Latins  call  it  remi- 
niscentidj  as  it  were  a  re-conning  of  our  former  actions. 

Sometimes  a  man  knows  a  place  determinate,  within  the  com- 
pass whereof  he  is  to  seek;  and  then  his  thoughts  run  over  all  the 
parts  thereof,  in  the  same  manner  as  one  would  sweep  a  room 
to  find  a  jewel;  or  as  a  spaniel  ranges  the  field  till  he  find  a  scent; 
or  as  a  man  should  run  over  the  alphabet,  to  start  a  rhyme. 


LEVIATHAN  67 

Sometimes  a  man  desires  to  know  the  event  of  an  action;  and 
then  he  thinketh  of  some  like  action  past,  and  the  events  thereof 
one  after  another,  supposing  like  events  will  follow  like  actions. 
"As  he  that  foresees  what  will  become  of  a  criminal,  reckons  what 
he  has  seen  follow  on  the  like  crime  before,  having  this  order: 
thoughts,  the  crime,  the  officer,  the  prison,  the  judge,  and  the 
gallows.  Which  kind  of  thoughts,  is  called  foresight,  and  prudence, 
or  providence  ;  and  sometimes  wisdom  ;  though  such  conjecture, 
through  the  difficulty  of  observing  all  circumstances,  be  very 
fallacious.  But  this  is  certain:  by  how  much  one  man  has  more 
experience  of  things  past,  than  another,  by  so  much  also  he  is 
more  prudent,  and  his  expectations  the  seldomer  fail  him.  The 
present  only  has  a  being  in  nature;  things  past  have  a  being  in 
the  memory  only,  but  things  to  come  have  no  being  at  all;  the 
future  being  but  a  fiction  of  the  mind,  applying  the  sequels  of 
actions  past,  to  the  actions  that  are  present;  which  with  most 
certainty  is  done  by  him  that  has  most  experience,  but  not 
with  certainty  enough.  And  though  it  be  called  prudence,  when 
the  event  answereth  our  expectation,  yet  in  its  own  nature,  it  is 
but  presumption.  For  the  foresight  of  things  to  come,  which  is 
providence,  belongs  only  to  him  by  whose  will  they  are  to  come. 
From  him  only,  and  supernaturally,  proceeds  prophecy.  -The 
best  prophet  naturally  is  the  best  guesser;  and  the  best  guesser, 
he  that  is  most  versed  and  studied  in  the  matters  he  guesses  at : 
for  he  hath  most  signs  to  guess  by. 

A  sign  is  the  evident  antecedent  of  the  consequent ;  and  con- 
trarily,  the  consequent  of  the  antecedent  when  the  like  conse- 
quences have  been  observed  before:  and  the  oftener  they  have 
been  observed,  the  less  uncertain  is  the  sign.  And  therefore  he 
that  has  most  experience  in  any  kind  of  business,  has  most  signs, 
whereby  to  guess  at  the  future  time,  and  consequently  is  the 
most  prudent:  and  so  much  more  prudent  than  he  that  is  new 
in  that  kind  of  business  as  not  to  be  equalled  by  any  advantage 
of  natural  and  extemporary  wit:  though  perhaps  many  young 
men  think  the  contrary. 

Nevertheless  it  is  not  prudence  that  distinguisheth  man  from 
beast.  There  be  beasts,  that  at  a  year  old  observe  more,  and 


r,  an 

e,^fcfth 

tdHfrot 


68  HOBBES 

pursue  that  which  is  for  their  good,  more  prudently  than  a  child 
can  do  at  ten. 

As  prudence  is  a  presumption  of  the  future,  contracted  from 
the  experience  of  time  past,  so  there  is  a  presumption  of  things 
past  taken  from  other  things,  not  future,  but  past  also.  For  he 
that  hath  seen  by  what  courses  and  degrees  a  flourishing  state 
hath  first  come  into  civil  war,  and  then  to  ruin,  upon  the  sight 
of  the  ruins  of  any  other  state,  will  guess,  the  like  war,  and  the 
like  courses  have  been  there  also.  But  his  conjecture,fcfthe 
same  uncertainty  almost  with  the  conjecture  of  the 
being  grounded  only  upon  experience. 

There  is  no  other  act  of  man's  mind,  that^Lcan  remember, 
naturally  planted  in  him,  so  as  to  need  no  Sner  thing,  to  the 
exercise  of  it,  but  to  be  born  a  man  and  liv|^ith  the  use  of  his 
five  senses.  Those  other  faculties,  of  which  I  shall  speak  by  and 
by,  and  which  seem  proper  to  man  only,  are  acquired  and  in- 
creased by  study  and  industry,  and  of  most  men  learned  by 
instruction,  and  discipline,  and  proceed  all  from  the  invention 
of  words,  and  speech.  For  besides  sense,  and  thoughts,  and  the 
train  of  thoughts,  the  mind  of  man  has  no  other  motion;  though 
by  the  help  of  speech  and  method,  the  same  faculties  may  be 
improved  to  such  a  height,  as  to  distinguish  men  from  all  other 
living  creatures. 

Whatsoever  we  imagine  is  finite.  Therefore  there  is  no  idea, 
or  conception  of  any  thing  we  call  infinite.  No  man  can  have  in 
his  mind  an  image  of  infinite  magnitude,  nor  conceive  infinite* 
swiftness,  infinite  time,  or  infinite  force,  or  infinite  power.  When 
we  say  any  thing  is  infinite,  we  signify  only  that  we  are  not  able 
to  conceive  the  ends,  and  bounds  of  the  things  named,  having 
no  conception  of  the  thing,  but  of  our  own  inability.  And  there- 
fore the  name  of  God  is  used,  not  to  make  us  conceive  him,  for 
he  is  incomprehensible,  and  his  greatness,  and  power  are  uncon- 
ceivable; but  that  we  may  honour  him.  Also  because,  whatso- 
ever, as  I  said  before,  we  conceive  has  been  perceived  first  by 
sense,  -either  all  at  once,  or  by  parts  ;  a  man  can  have  no  thought, 
representing  any  thing,  not  subject  to  sense.  No  man  therefore 
can  conceive  any  thing,  but  he  must  conceive  it  in  some  place, 


LEVIATHAN  69 


and  indued  with  some  determinate  ^  ide,  and  which  may 
be  divided  into  parts  ;  nor  that  any  thing  is  all  in  this  place  and 
all  in  another  place  at  the  same  time;  nor  that  two  or  more 
things  can  be  in  one  and  the  same  place  at  once:  for  none  of 
these  things  ejs^PRave  nor  can  be  incident  to  sense;  but  are 
absurd  speech?  taken  upon  credit,  without  any  signification 
at  Sn,  from  deceived  philosophers,  and  deceived,  or  deceiving 
schoolmen. 


CHAPTER   V.     OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE 

When  a  man  reasoneth,  he  does  nothing  else  but  conceive  a  sum 
total,  from  addition  of  parcels;  or  conceive  a  remainder,  from 
subtraction  of  one  sum  from  another,  which,  if  it  be  done  by 
words,  is  conceiving  of  the  consequence  of  the  names  of  all  the 
parts,  to  the  name  of  the  whole;  or  from  the  names  of  the  whole 
and  one  part,  to  the  name  of  the  other  part.  And  though  in  some 
things,  as  in  numbers,  besides  adding  and  subtracting,  men 
name  other  operations,  as  multiplying  and  dividing,  yet  they  are 
the  same;  for  multiplication,  is  but  adding  together  of  things 
equal;  and  division,  but  subtracting  of  one  thing  as  often  as  we 
can.  These  operations  are  not  incident  to  numbers  only,  but  to 
all  manner  of  things  that  can  be  added  together,  and  taken  one 
out  of  another.  For  as  arithmeticians  teach  to  add  and  subtract 
in  numbers,  so  the  geometricians  teach  the  same  in  lines,  figures, 
solid  and  superficial,  angles,  proportions,  times,  degrees  of  swift- 
ness, force,  power,  and  the  like;  the  logicians  teach  the  same  in 
consequences  of  words,  adding  together  two  names  to  make  an 
affirmation,  and  two  affirmations  to  make  a  syllogism,  and  many 
syllogisms  to  make  a  demonstration,  and  from  the  sum,  or  con- 
clusion of  a  syllogism,  they  subtract  one  proposition  to  find  the 
other.  Writers  of  politics  add  together  pactions  to  find  men's 
duties;  and  lawyers,  laws  and  facts,  to  find  what  is  right  and  wrong 
in  the  actions  of  private  men.  In  sum,  in  what  matter  soever 
there  is  place  for  addition  and  subtraction,  there  also  is  place  for 
reason;  and  where  these  have  no  place,  there  reason  has  nothing 
at  all  to  do. 


7o  HOBBES 

Out  of  all  which  we  may  define,  that  is  to  say  determine,  what 
that  is,  which  is  meant  by  this  word  reason,  when  we  reckon  it 
amongst  the  faculties  of  the  mind.  For  REASON1  in  this  sense  is 
nothing  but  reckoning,  that  is  adding  and  subtracting,  of  the 
consequences  of  general  names  agreed  upon  for  the  marking 
and  signifying  of  our  thoughts;  I  say  marking  them  when  we 
reckon  by  ourselves,  and  signifying  when  we  demonstrate  or 
approve  our  reckonings  to  other  men. 

And,  as  in  arithmetic,  unpractised  men  must,  and  professors 
themselves  may  often,  err,  and  cast  up  false ;  so  also  in  any  other 
subject  of  reasoning,  the  ablest,  most  attentive,  and  most  prac- 
tised men  may  deceive  themselves,  and  infer  false  conclusions; 
not  but  that  reason  itself  is  always  right  reason,  as  well  as  arith- 
metic is  a  certain  and  infallible  art;  but  no  one  man's  reason, 
nor  the  reason  of  any  one  number  of  men,  makes  the  certainty; 
no  more  than  an  account  is  therefore  well  cast  up,  because  a  great 
many  men  have  unanimously  approved  it.  And  therefore,  as 
when  there  is  a  controversy  in  an  account,  the  parties  must  by 
their  own  accord  set  up,  for  right  reason,  the  reason  of  some 
arbitrator  or  judge  to  whose  sentence  they  will  both  stand,  or 
their  controversy  must  either  come  to  blows,  or  be  undecided, 
for  want  of  a  right  reason  constituted  by  nature ;  so  is  it  also  in  all 

1  Compare  Hobbes,  Elements  of  Philosophy  (Molesworth  ed.,  vol.  i,  ch.  i,  p.  3): 

"  PHILOSOPHY  is  such  knowledge  of  effects  or  appearances  as  we  acquire  by  true 
ratiocination  from  the  knowledge  we  have  first  of  their  causes  or  generation:  And 
again,  of  such  causes  or  generations  as  may  be  from  knowing  first  their  effects. 

For  the  better  understanding  of  which  definition,  we  must  consider,  first,  that 
although  Sense  and  Memory  of  things,  which  are  common  to  man  and  all  living 
creatures,  be  knowledge,  yet  because  they  are  given  us  immediately  by  nature, 
and  not  gotten  by  ratiocination,  they  are  not  philosophy. 

Secondly,  seeing  Experience  is  nothing  but  memory;  and  Prudence,  or  pros- 
pect into  the  future  time,  nothing  but  expectation  of  such  things  as  we  have 
already  had  experience  of,  Prudence  also  is  not  to  be  esteemed  philosophy. 

By  RATIOCINATION,  I  mean  computation.  Now  to  compute  is  either  to  collect 
the  sum  of  many  things  that  are  added  together,  or  to  know  what  remains  when 
one  thing  is  taken  out  of  another.  Ratiocination,  therefore,  is  the  same  with 
addition  and  subtraction;  and  if  any  man  add  multiplication  and  division,  I  will 
not  be  against  it,  seeing  multiplication  is  nothing  but  addition  of  equals  one  to 
another,  and  division  nothing  but  a  subtraction  of  equals  one  from  another,  as 
often  as  is  possible.  So  that  all  ratiocination  is  comprehended  in  these  two  opera- 
tions of  the  mind,  addition  and  subtraction." 


LEVIATHAN  71 

debates  of  what  kind  soever.  And  when  men  that  think  them- 
selves wiser  than  all  others,  clamour  and  demand  right  reason 
for  judge,  yet  seek  no  more,  but  that  things  should  be  determined, 
by  no  other  men's  reason  but  their  own,  it  is  as  intolerable  in  the 
society  of  men,  as  it  is  in  play  after  trump  is  turned,  to  use  for 
trump  on  every  occasion,  that  suite  whereof  they  have  most  in 
their  hand.  For  they  do  nothing  else,  that  will  have  every  of  their 
passions,  as  it  comes  to  bear  sway  in  them,  to  be  taken  for  right 
reason,  and  that  in  their  own  controversies :  bewraying  their  want 
of  right  reason  by  the  claim  they  lay  to  it. 

The  use  and  end  of  reason,  is  not  the  finding  of  the  sum  and 
truth  of  one,  or  a  few  consequences,  remote  from  the  first  defini- 
tions and  settled  significations  of  names,  but  to  begin  at  these, 
and  proceed  from  one  consequence  to  another.  For  there  can  be 
no  certainty  of  the  last  conclusion,  without  a  certainty  of  all  those 
affirmations  and  negations,  on  which  it  was  grounded  and  in- 
ferred. As  when  a  master  of  a  family,  in  taking  an  account, 
casteth  up  the  sums  of  all  the  bills  of  expense  into  one  sum,  and 
not  regarding  how  each  bill  is  summed  up,  by  those  that  give 
them  in  account;  nor  what  it  is  he  pays  for;  he  advantages  him- 
self no  more,  than  if  he  allowed  the  account  in  gross,  trusting  to 
every  of  the  accountants'  skill  and  honesty :  so  also  in  reasoning 
of  all  other  things,  he  that  takes  up  conclusions  on  the  trust  of 
authors,  and  doth  not  fetch  them  from  the  first  items  in  every 
reckoning,  which  are  the  significations  of  names  settled  by  defi- 
nitions, loses  his  labour,  and  does  not  know  anything,  but  only 
believeth. 

When  a  man  reckons  without  the  use  of  words,  which  may  be 
done  in  particular  things,  as  when  upon  the  sight  of  any  one 
thing,  we  conjecture  what  was  likely  to  have  preceded,  or  is  likely 
to  follow  upon  it ;  if  that  which  he  thought  likely  to  follow,  fol- 
lows not,  or  that  which  he  thought  likely  to  have  preceded  it, 
hath  not  preceded  it,  this  is  called  error  to  which  even  the  most 
prudent  men  are  subject.  But  when  we  reason  in  words  of  general 
signification,  and  fall  upon  a  general  inference  which  is  false, 
though  it  be  commonly  called  error,  it  is  indeed  an  absurdity,  or 
senseless  speech.  For  error  is  but  deception,  in  presuming  that 


72  .    HOBBES 

somewhat  is  past,  or  to  come;  of  which,  though  it  were  not  past, 
or  not  to  come,  yet  there  was  no  impossibility  discoverable.  But 
when  we  make  a  general  assertion,  unless  it  be  ,a  true  one,  the 
possibility  of  it  is  inconceivable.  And  words  whereby  we  conceive 
nothing  but  the  sound,  are  those  we  call  absurd,  insignificant, 
and  nonsense.  And  therefore  if  a  man  should  talk  to  me  of  a 
round  quadrangle;  or,  accidents  oj  bread  in  cheese;  or,  immaterial 
substances;  or  of  a  free  subject;  a  free  will;  or  any  free,  but  free 
from  being  hindered  by  opposition,  I  should  not  say  he  were  in 
an  error,  but  that  his  words  were  without  meaning,  that  is  to  say, 
absurd. 

I  have  said  before,  in  the  second  chapter,  that  a  man  did  excel 
all  other  animals  in  this  faculty,  that  when  he  conceived  any- 
thing whatsoever,  he  was  apt  to  inquire  the  consequences  of  it, 
and  what  effects  he  could  do  with  it.  And  now  I  add  this  other 
degree  of  the  same  excellence,  that  he  can  by  words  reduce  the 
consequences  he  finds  to  general  rules,  called  theorems,  or  aphor- 
isms; that  is,  he  can  reason,  or  reckon,  not  only  in  number,  but  in 
all  other  things,  whereof  one  may  be  added  unto,  or  subtracted 
from  another. 

But  this  privilege  is  allayed  by  another;  and  that  is,  by  the 
privilege  of  absurdity;  to  which  no  living  creature  is  subject, 
but  man  only.  And  of  men,  those  are  of  all  most  subject  to  it, 
that  profess  philosophy.  For  it  is  most  true  that  Cicero  saith  of 
them  somewhere;  that  there  can  be  nothing  so  absurd,  but  may 
be  found  in  the  books  of  philosophers.  And  the  reason  is  mani- 
fest. For  there  is  not  one  of  them  that  begins  his  ratiocination 
from  the  definitions,  or  explications  of  the  names  they  are  to  use ; 
which  is  a  method  that  hath  been  used  only  in  geometry;  whose 
conclusions  have  thereby  been  made  indisputable. 

i.  The  first  cause  of  absurd  conclusions  I  ascribe  to  the  want 
of  method;  in  that  they  begin  not  their  ratiocination  from  defi- 
nitions; that  is,  from  settled  significations  of  their  words;  as 
if  they  could  cast  account,  without  knowing  the  value  of  the 
numeral  words,  one,  two,  and  three. 

And  whereas  all  bodies  enter  into  account  upon  divers  con- 
siderations, which  I  have  mentioned  in  the  precedent  chapter; 


LEVIATHAN  73 

these  considerations  being  diversely  named,  divers  absurdities 
proceed  from  the  confusion,  and  unfit  connexion  of  their  names 
into  assertions.  And  therefore, 

n.  The  second  cause  of  absurd  assertions,  I  ascribe  to  the  giv- 
ing of  names  of  bodies  to  accidents;  or  of  accidents  to  bodies;  as 
they  do  that  say,  faith  is  infused,  or  inspired;  when  nothing  can 
be  poured,  or  breathed  into  anything,  but  body ;  and  that  extension 
is  body;  that  phantasms  are  spirits,  &c. 

in.  The  third  I  ascribe  to  the  giving  of  the  names  of  the  acci- 
dents of  bodies  without  us,  to  the  accidents  of  our  own  bodies;  as 
they  do  that  say,  the  colour  is  in  the  body;  the  sound  is  in  the  air, 
&c. 

iv.  The  fourth,  to  the  giving  of  the  names  of  bodies  to  names, 
or -speeches;  as  they  do  that  say,  that  there  be  things  universal; 
that  a  living  creature  is  genus,  or  a  general  thing,  &c. 

v.  The  fifth,  to  the  giving  of  the  names  of  accidents  to  names 
and  speeches;  as  they  do  that  say,  the  nature  of  a  thing  is  its  defi- 
nition; a  man's  command  is  his  will;  and  the  like. 

vi.  The  sixth,  to  the  use  of  metaphors,  tropes,  and  other 
rhetorical  figures,  instead  of  words  proper.  For  though  it  be 
lawful  to  say,  for  example,  in  common  speech,  the  way  goeth,  or 
leadeth  hither  or  thither;  the  proverb  says  this  or  that,  whereas 
ways  cannot  go,  nor  proverbs  speak;  yet  in  reckoning,  and  seek- 
ing of  truth,  such  speeches  are  not  to  be  admitted. 

vii.  The  seventh,  to  names  that  signify  nothing;  but  are  taken 
up  and  learned  by  rote  from  the  schools,  as  hypostatical,  tran- 
substantiate, consubstantiate,  eternal-now,  and  the  like  canting  of 
schoolmen. 

To  him  that  can  avoid  these  things  it  is  not  easy  to  fall  into 
any  absurdity,  unless  it  be  by  the  length  of  an  account ;  wherein 
he  may  perhaps  forget  what  went  before.  For  all  men  by  nature 
reason  alike,  and  well,  when  they  have  good  principles.  For  who 
is  so  stupid,  as  both  to  mistake  in  geometry,  and  also  to  persist 
in  it,  when  another  detects  his  error  to  him  ? 

By  this  it  appears  that  reason  is  not,  as  sense  and  memory, 
born  with  us;  nor  gotten  by  experience  only,  as  prudence  is; 
but  attained  by  industry;  first  in  apt  imposing  of  names;  and 


74  HOBBES 

secondly  by  getting  a  good  and  orderly  method  in  proceeding 
from  the  elements,  which  are  names,  to  assertions  made  by  con- 
nexion of  one  of  them  to  another;  and  so  to  syllogisms,  which 
are  the  connexions  of  one  assertion  to  another,  till  we  come  to  a 
knowledge  of  all  the  consequences  of  names  appertaining  to  the 
subject  in  hand;  and  that  is  it,  men  call  SCIENCE.1  And  whereas 
sense  and  memory  are  but  knowledge  of  fact,  which  is  a  thing 
past  and  irrevocable.  Science  is  the  knowledge  of  consequences, 
and  dependence  of  one  fact  upon  another :  by  which,  out  of  that 
we  can  presently  do,  we  know  how  to  do  something  else  when 
we  will,  or  the  like  another  time ;  because  when  we  see  how  any- 
thing comes  about,  upon  what  causes,  and  by  what  manner; 
when  the  like  causes  come  into  our  power,  we  see  how  to  make 
it  produce  the  like  effects. 

Children  therefore  are  not  endued  with  reason  at  all,  till  they 
have  attained  the  use  of  speech;  but  are  called  reasonable  crea- 
tures, for  the  possibility  apparent  of  having  the  use  of  reason  in 
time  to  come.  And  the  most  part  of  men,  though  they  have  the 
use  of  reasoning  a  little  way,  as  in  numbering  to  some  degree; 
yet  it  serves  them  to  little  use  in  common  life ;  in  which  they  gov- 
ern themselves,  some  better,  some  worse,  according  to  their  dif- 
ferences of  experience,  quickness  of  memory,  and  inclinations  to 
several  ends;  but  specially  according  to  good  or  evil  fortune,  and 
the  errors  of  one  another.  For  as  for  science,,  or  certain  rules  of 
their  actions,  they  are  so  far  from  it,  that  they  know  not  what  it  is. 

1  Cf.  Hobbes,  Elements  of  Philosophy  (Molesworth,  vol.  i,  ch.  vi,  p.  66): 
"METHOD,  therefore,  in  the  study  of  philosophy,  is  the  shortest  way  oj  finding  out 
effects  by  their  known  causes,  or  oj  causes  by  their  known  effects.  But  we  are  then 
said  to  know  any  effect,  when  we  know  that  there  be  causes  oj  the  same,  and  in 
what  subject  those  causes  are,  and  in  what  subject  they  produce  that  effect,  and  in 
what  manner  they  work  the  same.  And  this  is  the  science  of  causes,  or  as  they  call 
it,  of  the  SiJrt.  All  other  science,  which  is  called  the  '6ri,  is  either  perception  by 
sense,  or  the  imagination,  or  memory  remaining  after  such  perception. 

"The  first  beginnings,  therefore,  of  knowledge,  are  the  phantasms  of  sense 
and  imagination;  and  that  there  be  such  phantasms  we  know  well  enough  by 
nature;  but  to  know  why  they  be,  or  from  what  causes  they  proceed,  is  the  work 
of  ratiocination;  which  consists  in  composition,  and  division  or  resolution.  There 
is  therefore  no  method  by  which  we  find  out  the  causes  of  things,  but  is  either 
compositive  or  resolutive,  or  partly  compositive  and  partly  resolutive.  And  the 
resolutive  is  commonly  called  analytical  method,  as  the  compositive  is  called 
synthetical." 


LEVIATHAN  75 

Geometry  they  have  thought  conjuring:  but  for  other  sciences, 
they  who  have  not  been  taught  the  beginnings  and  some  progress 
in  them,  that  they  may  see  how  they  be  acquired  and  generated, 
are  in  this  point  like  children,  that  having  no  thought  of  gener- 
ation, are  made  believe  by  the  women  that  their  brothers  and 
sisters  are  not  born,  but  found  in  the  garden. 

But  yet  they  that  have  no  science,  are  in  better  and  nobler 
condition,  with  their  natural  prudence,  than  men,  that  by  mis- 
reasoning,  or  by  trusting  them  that  reason  wrong,  fall  upon  false 
and  absurd  general  rules.  For  ignorance  of  causes,  and  of  rules, 
does  not  set  men  so  far  out  of  their  way,  as  relying  on  false  rules, 
and  taking  for  causes  of  what  they  aspire  to,  those  that  are  not  so, 
but  rather  causes  of  the  contrary. 

To  conclude,  the  light  of  human  minds  is  perspicuous  words, 
but  by  exact  definitions  first  snuffed,  and  purged  from  ambiguity ; 
reason  is  the  pace;  increase  of  science,  the  way;  and  the  benefit  of 
mankind,  the  end.  And,  on  the  contrary,  metaphors,  and  sense- 
less and  ambiguous  words,  are  like  ignes  jatui;  and  reasoning 
upon  them  is  wandering  amongst  innumerable  absurdities;  and 
their  end,  contention  and  sedition,  or  contempt. 

As  much  experience,  is  prudence ;  so,  is  much  science  sapience. 
For  though  we  usually  have  one  name  of  wisdom  for  them  both, 
yet  the  Latins  did  always  distinguish  between  prudentia  and 
sapientia;  ascribing  the  former  to  experience,  the  latter  to  science. 
But  to  make  their  difference  appear  more  clearly,  let  us  suppose 
one  man  endued  with  an  excellent  natural  use  and  dexterity  in 
handling  his  arms;  and  another  to  have  added  to  that  dexterity, 
an  acquired  science,  of  where  he  can  offend  or  be  offended  by 
his  adversary,  in  every  possible  posture  or  guard;  the  ability  of 
the  former,  would  be  to  the  ability  of  the  latter,  as  prudence  to 
sapience;  both  useful,  but  the  latter  infallible.  But  they  that, 
trusting  only  to  the  authority  of  books,  follow  the  blind  blindly, 
are  like  him  that,  trusting  to  the  false  rules  of  a  master  of  fence, 
ventures  presumptuously  upon  an  adversary,  that  either  kills  or 
disgraces  him. 

The  signs  of  science  are  some,  certain  and  infallible;  some, 
uncertain.  Certain,  when  he  that  pretendeth  the  science  of  any- 


;6  HOBBES 

thing  can  teach  the  same;  that  is  to  say,  demonstrate  the  truth 
thereof  perspicuously  to  another;  uncertain,  when  only  some 
particular  events  answer  to  his  pretence,  and  upon  many  occa- 
sions prove  so  as  he  says  they  must.  Signs  of  prudence  are  all 
uncertain;  because  to  observe  by  experience,  and  remember  all 
circumstances  that  may  alter  the  success  is  impossible.  But  in 
any  business  whereof  a  man  has  not  infallible  science  to  proceed 
by,  to  forsake  his  own  natural  judgment,  and  be  guided  by 
general  sentences  read  in  authors,  and  subject  to  many  excep- 
tions, is  a  sign  of  folly,  and  generally  scorned  by  the  name  of 
pedantry.  And  even  of  those  men  themselves,  that  in  councils  of 
the'  commonwealth  love  to  show  their  reading  of  politics  and 
history,  very  few  do  it  in  their  domestic  affairs,  where  their 
particular  interest  is  concerned;  having  prudence  enough  for 
their  private  affairs :  but  in  public  they  study  more  the  reputation 
of  their  own  wit,  than  the  success  of  another's  business. 

CHAPTER   VI.    OF  THE  INTERIOR  BEGINNINGS 

OF  VOLUNTARY  MOTIONS;  COMMONLY 

CALLED    THE  PASSIONS 

There  be  in  animals,  two  sorts  of  motions  peculiar  to  them: 
one  called  vital;  begun  in  generation,  and  continued  without 
interruption  through  their  whole  life;  such  as  are  the  course 
of  the  blood,  the  pulse,  the  breathing,  the  concoction,  nutritiont 
excretion,  &c.,  to  which  motions  there  needs  no  help  of  imagi- 
nation: the  other  is  animal  motion,  otherwise  called  voluntary 
motion  ;  as  to  go,  to  speak,  to  move  any  of  our  limbs  in  such  man- 
ner as  is  first  fancied  in  our  minds.  That  sense  is  motion  in  the 
organs  and  interior  parts  of  man's  body,  caused  by  the  action 
of  the  things  we  see,  hear,  &c. ;  and  that  fancy  is  but  the  relics 
of  the  same  motion,  remaining  after  sense,  has  been  already 
said  in  the  first  and  second  chapters.  And  because  going,  speak- 
ing, and  the  like  voluntary  motions,  depend  always  upon  a  pre- 
cedent thought  of  whither,  which  way,  and  what;  it  is  evident 
that  the  imagination  is  the  first  internal  beginning  of  all  volun- 
tary motion.  And  although  unstudied  men  do  not  conceive  any 


LEVIATHAN  77 

motion  at  all  to  be  there,  where  the  thing  moved  is  invisible;  or 
the  space  it  is  moved  in  is,  for  the  shortness  of  it,  insensible; 
yet  that  doth  not  hinder  but  that  such  motions  are.  For  let  a 
space  be  never  so  little,  that  which  is  moved  over  a  greater  space, 
whereof  that  little  one  is  part,  must  first  be  moved  over  that.- 
These  small  beginnings  of  motion,  within  the  body  of  man, 
before  they  appear  in  walking,  speaking,  striking,  and  other 
visible  actions,  are  commonly  called  ENDEAVOUR. 

This  endeavour,  when  it  is  toward  something  which  causes  it, 
is  called  APPETITE,  or  DESIRE;  the  latter  being  the  general  name; 
and  the  other  oftentimes  restrained  to  signify  the  desire  of  food, 
namely  hunger  and  thirst.  And  when  the  endeavour  is  fromward 
something,  it  is  generally  called  AVERSION.  These  words,  appe- 
tite and  aversion,  we  have  from  the  Latins,  and  they  both  of 
them  signify  the  motions,  one  of  approaching,  the  other  of  retir- 
ing. So  also  do  the  Greek  words  for  the  same,  which  are  OP/AT? 
and  afopM.  For  nature  itself  does  often  press  upon  men  those 
truths,  which  afterwards,  when  they  look  for  somewhat  beyond 
nature,  they  stumble  at.  For  the  Schools  find  in  mere  appetite 
to  go,  or  move,  no  actual  motion  at  all :  but  because  some  motion 
they  must  acknowledge,  they  call  it  metaphorical  motion;  which 
is  but  an  absurd  speech:  for  though  words  may  be  called  meta- 
phorical, bodies  and  motions  can  not. 

That  which  men  desire,  they  are  also  said  to  LOVE,  and  to  HATE 
those  things  for  which  they  have  aversion.  So  that  desire  and 
love  are  the  same  thing;  save  that  by  desire,  we  always  signify 
the  absence  of  the  object;  by  love,  most  commonly  the  presence 
of  the  same.  So  also  by  aversion,  we  signify  the  absence;  and  by 
hate,  the  presence  of  the  object. 

Of  appetites  and  aversions,  some  are  born  with  men ;  as  ap- 
petite of  food,  appetite  of  excretion,  and  exoneration,  which  may 
also  and  more  properly  be  called  aversions,  from  somewhat  they 
feel  in  their  bodies;  and  some  other  appetites,  not  many.  The 
rest,  which  are  appetites  of  particular  things,  proceed  from  ex- 
perience, and  trial  of  their  effects  upon  themselves  or  other  men. 
For  of  things  we  know  not  at  all,  or  believe  not  to  be,  we  can 
have  no  further  desire  than  to  taste  and  try.  But  aversion  we  have 


78  HOBBES 

for  things,  not  only  which  we  know  have  hurt  us,  but  also  that 
we  do  not  know  whether  they  will  hurt  us,  or  not. 

Those  things  which  we  neither  desire,  nor  hate,  we  are  said 
to  contemn;  CONTEMPT  being  nothing  else  but  an  immobility,  or 
contumacy  of  the  heart,  in  resisting  the  action  of  certain  things; 
and  proceeding  from  that  the  heart  is  already  moved  otherwise, 
by  other  more  potent  objects ;  or  from  want  of  experience  of  them. 

And  because  the  constitution  of  a  man's  body  is  in  continual 
mutation,  it  is  impossible  that  all  the  same  things  should  always 
cause  in  him  the  same  appetites  and  aversions:   much  less  can  > 
all  men  consent,  in  the  desire  of  almost  any  one  and  the  same 
object. 

But  whatsoever  is  the  object  of  any  man's  appetite  or  desire, 
that  is  it  which  he  for  his  part  calleth  good:  and  the  object  of 
his  hate  and  aversion,  evil;  and  of  his  contempt,  vile  and  incon- 
siderable. For  these  words  of  good,  evil,  and  contemptible,  are 
ever  used  with  relation  to  the  person  that  useth  them:  there 
being  nothing  simply  and  absolutely  so;  nor  any  common  rule 
of  good  and  evil,  to  be  taken  from  the  nature  of  the  objects 
themselves;  but  from  the  person  of  the  man,  where  there  is  no 
commonwealth;  or,  in  a  commonwealth,  from  the  person  that 
representeth  it;  or  from  an  arbitrator  or  judge,  whom  men  dis- 
agreeing shall  by  consent  set  up,  and  make  his  sentence  the 
rule  thereof. 

The  Latin  tongue  has  two  words,  whose  significations  approach 
to  those  of  good  and  evil;  but  are  not  precisely  the  same;  and 
those  are  pulchrum  and  turpe.  Whereof  the  former  signifies  that, 
which  by  some  apparent  signs  promiseth  good;  and  the  latter, 
that  which  promiseth  evil.  But  in  our  tongue  we  have  not  so 
general  names  to  express  them  by.  But  for  pulchrum  we  say  in 
some  things,  fair;  in  others,  beautiful,  or  handsome,  or  gallant, 
or  honourable,  or  comely,  or  amiable;  and  for  turpe,  foul,  de- 
formed, ugly,  base,  nauseous,  and  the  like,  as  the  subject  shall 
require;  all  which  words,  in  their  proper  places,  signify  nothing 
else  but  the  mien  or  countenance,  that  promiseth  good  and  evil. 
So  that  of  good  there  be  three  kinds ;  good  in  the  promise,  that  is 
pulchrum;  good  in  effect,  as  the  end  desired,  which  is  called 


LEVIATHAN  79 

jucundum,  delightful;  and  good  as  the  means,  which  is  called 
utile,  profitable;  and  as  many  of  evil :  for  evil  in  promise,  is  that 
they  call  turpe;  evil  in  effect,  and  end,  is  molestum,  unpleasant, 
troublesome;  and  evil  in  the  means,  inutile,  unprofitable,  hurtful. 

As,  in  sense,  that  which  is  really  within  us,  is,  as  I  have  said 
before,  only  motion,  caused  by  the  action  of  external  objects,  but 
in  apparence;  to  the  sight,  light  and  colour;  to  the  ear,  sound; 
to  the  nostril,  odour,  &c. :  so,  when  the  action  of  the  same  object 
is  continued  from  the  eyes,  ears,  and  other  organs  to  the  heart, 
the  real  effect  there  is  nothing  but  motion,  or  endeavour;  which 
consisteth  in  appetite,  or  aversion,  to  or  from  the  object  moving. 
But  the  apparence,  or  sense  of  that  motion,  is  that  we  either  call 
delight  or  trouble  of  mind. 

This  motion,  which  is  called  appetite,  and  for  the  apparence 
of  it  delight  and  pleasure,  seemeth  to  be  a  corroboration  of  vital 
motion,  and  a  help  thereunto;  and  therefore  such  things  as 
caused  delight  were  not  improperly  called  jucunda,  a  juvando, 
from  helping  or  fortifying;  and  the  contrary  molesta,  offensive, 
from  hindering,  and  troubling  the  motion  vital. 

Pleasure,  therefore)  or  delight  is  the  apparence,  or  sense  of 
good;  and  molestation  or  displeasure,  the  apparence  or  sense  of 
evil.  And  consequently  all  appetite,  desire,  and  love,  is  accom- 
panied with  some  delight  more  or  less ;  and  all  hatred  and  aver- 
sion, with  more  or  less  displeasure  and  offence. 

Of  pleasures  or  delights,  some  arise  from  the  sense  of  an  object 
present;  and  those  may  be  called  pleasure  of  sense;  the  word 
sensual,  as  it  is  used  by  those  only  that  condemn  them,  having 
no  place  till  there  be  laws.  Of  this  kind  are  all  onerations  and 
exonerations  of  the  body;  as  also  all  that  is  pleasant,  in  the 
sight,  hearing,  smell,  taste,  or  touch.  Others  arise  from  the  ex- 
pectation, that  proceeds  from  foresight  of  the  end,  or  consequence 
of  things;  whether  those  things  in  the  sense  please  or  displease. 
And  these  are  pleasures  of  the  mind  of  him  that  draweth  those 
consequences,  and  are  generally  called  JOY.  In  the  like  manner, 
displeasures  are  some  in  the  sense,  and  called  PAIN;  others  in 
the  expectation  of  consequences,  and  are  called  GRIEF. 

These  simple  passions  called  appetite,  desire,  love,  aversion, 


80  HOBBES 

hate,  joy,  and  grief,  have  their  names  for  divers  considerations 
diversified.  As  first,  when  they  one  succeed  another,  they  are 
diversely  called  from  the  opinion  men  have  of  the  likelihood 
of  attaining  what  they  desire.  Secondly,  from  the  object  loved 
or  hated.  Thirdly,  from  the  consideration  of  many  of  them 
together.  Fourthly,  from  the  alteration  or  succession  itself. 


CHAPTER  XIII.     OF  THE  NATURAL  CONDITION 

OF  MANKIND  AS  CONCERNING  THEIR 

FELICITY  AND  MISERY 

Nature  hath  made  men  so  equal,  in  the  faculties  6f  the  body, 
and  mind;  as  that  though  there  be  found  one  man  sometimes 
manifestly  stronger  in  body,  or  of  quicker  mind  than  another, 
yet  when  all  is  reckoned  together,  the  difference  between  man 
and  man,  is  not  so  considerable,  as  that  one  man  can  thereupon 
claim  to  himself  any  benefit  to  which  another  may  not  pretend, 
as  well  as  he.  For  as  to  the  strength  of  body,  the  weakest  has 
strength  enough  to  kill  the  strongest,  either  by  secret  machina- 
tion, or  by  confederacy  with  others,  that  are  in  the  same  danger 
with  himself. 

And  as  to  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  setting  aside  the  arts 
grounded  upon  words,  and  especially  that  skill  of  proceeding 
upon  general  and  infallible  rules,  called  science ;  which  very  few 
have,  and  but  in  few  things;  as  being  not  a  native  faculty  born 
with  us;  nor  attained,  as  prudence,  while  we  look  after  somewhat 
else,  I  find  yet  a  greater  equality  amongst  men  than  that  of 
strength.  For  prudence,  is  but  experience;  which  equal  time, 
equally  bestows  on  all  men,  in  those  things  they  equally  apply 
themselves  unto.  That  which  may  perhaps  make  such  equality 
incredible,  is  but  a  vain  conceit  of  one's  own  wisdom,  which 
almost  all  men  think  they  have  in  a  greater  degree  tkan  the  vulgar ; 
that  is,  than  all  men  but  themselves,  and  a  few  others,  whom 
by  fame,  or  for  concurring  with  themselves,  they  approve.  For 
such  is  the  nature  of  men,  that  howsoever  they  may  acknowledge 
many  others  to  be  more  witty,  or  more  eloquent,  or  more  .learned ; 


LEVIATHAN  81 

yet  they  will  hardly  believe  there  be  many  so  wise  as  themselves; 
for  they  see  their  own  wit  at  hand,  and  other  men's  at  a  distance. 
But  this  proveth  rather  that  men  are  in  that  point  equal,  than 
unequal.  For  there  is  not  ordinarily  a  greater  sign  of  the  equal 
distribution  of  anything,  than  that  every  man  is  contented  with 
his  share. 

From  this  equality  of  ability,  ariseth  equality  of  hope  in  the 
attaining  of  our  ends.  And  therefore  if  any  two  men  desire  the 
same  thing,  which  nevertheless  they  cannot  both  enjoy,  they 
become  enemies;  and  in  the  way  to  their  end,  which  is  principally 
their  own  conservation,  and  sometimes  their  delectation  only, 
endeavour  to  destroy  or  subdue  one  another.  And  from  hence 
it  comes  to  pass,  that  where  an  invader  hath  no  more  to  fear, 
than  another  man's  single  power;  if  one  plant,  sow,  build,  or 
possess  a  convenient  seat,  others  may  probably  be  expected  to 
come  prepared  with  forces  united,  to  dispossess,  and  deprive  him, 
not  only  of  the  fruit  of  his  labour,  but  also  of  his  life  or  liberty. 
And  the  invader  again  is  in  the  like  danger  of  another. 

And  from  this  diffidence  of  one  another,  there  is  no  way  for 
any  man  to  secure  himself,  so  reasonable  as  anticipation ;  that  is, 
by  force,  or  wiles,  to  master  the  persons  of  all  men  he  can,  so 
long,  till  he  see  no  other  power  great  enough  to  endanger  him: 
and  this  is  no  more  than  his  own  conservation  requireth,  and 
is  generally  allowed.  Also  because  there  be  some,  that  taking 
pleasure  in  contemplating  their  own  power  in  the  acts  of  conquest, 
which  they  pursue  farther  than  their  security  requires ;  if  others, 
that  otherwise  would  be  glad  to  be  at  ease  within  modest  bounds, 
should  not  by  invasion  increase  their  power,  they  would  not  be 
able,  long  time,  by  standing  only  on  their  defence,  to  subsist. 
And  by  consequence,  such  augmentation  of  dominion  over  men 
being  necessary  to  a  man's  conservation,  it  ought  to  be  allowed 
him. 

Again,  men'  have  no  pleasure,  but  on  the  contrary  a  great  deal 
of  grief,  in  keeping  company,  where  there  is  no  power  able  to 
overawe  them  all.  For  every  man  looketh  that  his  companion 
should  value  him,  at  the  same  rate  he  sets  upon  himself:  and 
upon  all  signs  of  contempt,  or  undervaluing,  naturally  endeavours 


82  HOBBES 

as  far  as  he  dares  (which  amongst  them  that  have  no  common 
power  to  keep  them  in  quiet,  is  far  enough  to  make  them  destroy 
each  other),  to  extort  a  greater  value  from  his  contemners,  by 
damage;  and  from  others,  by  the  example. 

So  that  in  the  nature  of  man,  we  find  three  principal  causes  of 
quarrel.  First,  competition ;  secondly,  diffidence;  thirdly,  glory. 

The  first,  maketh  men  invade  for  gain;  the  second,  for  safety; 
and  the  third,  for  reputation.  The  first  use  violence,  to  make 
themselves  masters  of  other  men's  persons,  wives,  children,  and 
cattle;  the  second,  to  defend  them;  the  third,  for  trifles,  as  a 
word,  a  smile,  a  different  opinion,  and  any  other  sign  of  under- 
value, either  direct  in  their  persons,  or  by  reflection  in  their 
kindred,  their  friends,  their  nation,  their  profession,  or  their 
name. 

Hereby  it  is  manifest,  that  during  the  time  men  live  without  a 
common  power  to  keep  them  all  in  awe,  they  are  in  that  condition 
which  is  called  war;  and  such  a  war,  as  is  of  every  man,  against 
every  man.  For  WAR,  consisteth  not  in  battle  only,  or  the  act  of 
fighting;  but  in  a  tract  of  time,  wherein  the  will  to  contend  by 
battle  is  sufficiently  known :  and  therefore  the  notion  of  time,  is 
to  be  considered  in  the  nature  of  war,  as  it  is  in  the  nature  of 
weather.  For  as  the  nature  of  foul  weather,  lieth  not  in  a  shower 
or  two  of  rain,  but  in  an  inclination  thereto  of  many  days  together; 
so  the  nature  of  war,  consisteth  not  in  actual  fighting,  but  in  the 
known  disposition  thereto,  during  all  the  time  there  is  no  assur- 
ance to  the  contrary.  All  other  time  is  PEACE. 

Whatsoever  therefore  is  consequent  to  a  time  of  war,  where 
every  man  is  enemy  to  every  man,  the  same  is  consequent  to  the 
time  wherein  men  live  without  other  security,  than  what  their 
own  strength,  and  their  own  invention  shall  furnish  them  writhal. 
In  such  condition,  there  is  no  place  for  industry,  because  the 
fruit  thereof  is  uncertain,  and  consequently  no  culture  of  the 
earth;  no  navigation,  nor  use  of  the  commodities  that  may  be 
imported  by  sea;  no  commodious  building;  no  instruments  of 
moving,  and  removing,  such  things  as  require  much  force;  no 
knowledge  of  the  face  of  the  earth;  no  account  of  time;  no  arts; 
no  letters;  no  society;  and,  which  is  worst  of  all,  continual  fear, 


LEVIATHAN  83 

and  danger  of  violent  death;  and  the  life  of  man,  solitary,  poor, 
nasty,  brutish,  and  short. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  some  man,  that  has  not  well  weighed 
these  things,  that  Nature  should  thus  dissociate,  and  render  men 
apt  to  invade  and  destroy  one  another :  and  he  may  therefore,  not 
trusting  to  this  inference  made  from  the  passions,  desire  perhaps 
to  have  the  same  confirmed  by  experience.  Let  him  therefore 
consider  with  himself,  when  taking  a  journey,  he  arms  himself, 
and  seeks  to  go  well  accompanied;  when  going  to  sleep  he  locks 
his  doors;  when  even  in  his  house,  he  locks  his  chests;  and  this 
when  he  knows  there  be  laws,  and  public  officers,  armed,  to 
revenge  all  injuries  shall  be  done  him;  what  opinion  he  has  of 
his  fellow- subjects,  when  he  rides  armed;  of  his  fellow-citizens, 
when  he  locks  his  doors;  and  of  his  children  and  servants,  when 
he  locks  his  chests.  Does  he  not  there  as  much  accuse  mankind 
by  his  actions,  as  I  do  by  my  words?  But  neither  of  us  accuse 
man's  nature  in  it.  The  desires,  and  other  passions  of  man,  are 
in  themselves  no  sin.  No  more  are  the  actions,  that  proceed  from 
those  passions,  till  they  know  a  law  that  forbids  them:  which  till 
laws  be  made  they  cannot  know,  nor  can  any  law  be  made,  till 
they  have  agreed  upon  the  person  that  shall  make  it. 

It  may  peradventure  be  thought,  there  was  never  such  a  time 
nor  condition  of  war  as  this ;  and  I  believe  it  was  never  generally 
so,  over  all  the  world :  but  there  are  many  places  where  they  live 
so  now.  For  the  savage  people  in  many  places  of  America,  except 
the  government  of  small  families,  the  concord  whereof  dependeth 
on  natural  lust,  have  no  government  at  all,  and  live  at  this  day 
in  that  brutish  manner,  as  I  said  before.  Howsoever,  it  may  be 
perceived  what  manner  of  life  there  would  be,  where  there  were 
no  common  power  to  fear,  by  the  manner  of  life,  which  men  that 
have  formerly  lived  under  a  peaceful  government,  use  to  degen- 
erate into,  in  a  civil  war. 

But  though  there  had  never  been  any  time,  wherein  particular 
men  were  in  a  condition  of  war  one  against  another;  yet  in  all 
times,  kings,  and  persons  of  sovereign  authority,  because  of  their 
independency,  are  in  continual  jealousies,  and  in  the  state  and 
posture  of  gladiators ;  having  their  weapons  pointing,  and  their 


84  HOBBES 

eyes  fixed  on  one  another;  that  is,  their  forts,  garrisons,  and  guns 
upon  the  frontiers  of  their  kingdoms;  and  continual  spies  upon 
their  neighbours;  which  is  a  posture  of  war.  But  because  they 
uphold  thereby,  the  industry  of  their  subjects;  there  does  not 
follow  from  it  that  misery,  which  accompanies  the  liberty  of 
particular  men. 

To  this  war  of  every  man,  against  every  man,  this  also  is  con- 
sequent;  that  nothing  can  be  unjust.  The  notions  of  right  and 
wrong,  justice  and  injustice,  have  there  no  place.  Where  there  is 
no  common  power,  there  is  no  law:  where  no  law,  no  injustice. 
Force,  and  fraud,  are  in  war  the  two  cardinal  virtues.  Justice, 
and  injustice  are  none  of  the  faculties  neither  of  the  body  nor 
mind.  If  they  were,  they  might  be  in  a  man  that  were  alone 
in  the  world,  as  well  as  his  senses,  and  passions.  They  are  quali- 
ties, that  relate  to  men  in  society,  not  in  solitude.  It  is  consequent 
also  to  the  same  condition,  that  there  be  no  propriety,  no  dominion, 
no  mine  and  thine  distinct;  but  only  that  to  be  every  man's,  that 
he  can  get ;  and  for  so  long,  as  he  can  keep  it.  And  thus  much 
for  the  ill  condition,  which  man  by  mere  nature  is  actually  placed 
in;  though  with  a  possibility  to  come  out  of  it,  consisting  partly 
in  the  passions,  partly  in  his  reason. 

The  passions  that  incline  men  to  peace,  are  fear  of  death; 
desire  of  such  things  as  are  necessary  to  commodious  living;  and 
a  hope  by  their  industry  to  obtain  them.  And  reason  suggesteth 
convenient  articles  of  peace,  upon  which  men  may  be  drawn  to 
agreement.  These  articles,  are  they,  which  otherwise  are  called 
the  Laws  of  Nature:  whereof  I  shall  speak  more  particularly, 
in  the  two  following  chapters. 


CHAPTER   XIV.      OF    THE   FIRST   AND   SECOND 
NATURAL  LAWS,  AND   OF  CONTRACTS 

The  RIGHT  OF  NATURE,  '  which  writers  commonly  call  jus 
naturale,  is  the  liberty  each  man  hath,  to  use  his  own  power,  as  he 
will  himself,  for  the  preservation  of  his  own  nature;  that  is  to 
say,  of  his  own  life;  and  consequently,  of  doing  anything  which 


LEVIATHAN  85 

in  his  own  judgment  and  reason  he  shall  conceive  to  be  the  aptest 
means  thereunto. 

By  LIBERTY,  is  understood,  according  to  the  proper  significa- 
tion of  the  word,  the  absence  of  external  impediments:  which 
impediments,  may  oft  take  away  part  of  a  man's  power  to  do 
what  he  would;  but  cannot  hinder  him  from  using  the  power 
left  him,  according  as  his  judgment  and  reason  shall  dictate  to 
him. 

A  LAW  ^T7  TJATyETL.  leoc  naturalis,  is  a  precept  or  general  rule, 
found  out  by  reason,  by  which  a  man  is  forbidden  to  do  that, 
which  is  destructive  of  his  life,  or  taketh  away  the  means  of  pre- 
serving the  same;  and  to  omit  that,  by  which  he  thinketh  it  may 
be  best  preserved.  For  though  they  that  speak  of  this  subject 
use  to  confound  jus  and  leoc,  right  and  law:  yet  they  ought  to  be 
distinguished;  because  RIGHT  consisteth  in  liberty  to  do,  or  to 
forbear ;  whereas  LAW,  determineth,  and  bindeth  to  one  of  them  : 
so  that  law,  and  right,  differ  as  much  as  obligation,  and  liberty; 
which  in  one  and  the  same  matter  are  inconsistent. 

And  because  the  condition  of  man,  as  hath  been  declared  in 
the  precedent  chapter,  is  a  condition  of  war  of  every  one  against 
every  one ;  in  which  case  every  one  is  governed  by  his  own  reason ; 
and  there  is  nothing  he  can  make  use  of,  that  may  not  be  a  help 
unto  him  in  preserving  his  life  against  his  enemies;  it  followeth, 
that  in  such -a  condition,  every  man  has  a  right  to  everything; 
even  to  one  another's  body.  And  therefore,  as  long  as  this  natural 
right  of  every  man  to  everything  endureth,  there  can  be  no  secur- 
ity to  any  man,  how  strong  or  wise  soever  he  be,  of  living  out  the 
time  which  Nature  ordinarily  alloweth  men  to  live.  And  con- 
sequently it  is  a  precept,  or  general  rule  of  reason,  that  every  man 
ought  to  endeavour  peace,  as  far  as  he  has  hope  o)  obtaining  it; 
and  when  he  cannot  obtain  it,  that  he  may  seek,  and  use,  all  helps 
and  advantages  of  war.  The  first  branch  of  which  rule  containeth 
I*  th^firsj;,  jmcLfundamental  law  of  Nature;  which  is  to  seek  peace, 
and  follow  it.  The  second,  the  sum  of  the  right  of  Nature :  which 
is,  by  all  means  we  can,  to  defend  ourselves. 
jf  From  this  fundamental  law  of  Nature,  by  which  men  are  com- 
to  endeavour  peace,  is  derived  this  segppdjaw;  that  a 


86  HOBBES 

man  be  willing,  when  others  are  so  too,  as  jar- forth,  as  jor  peace, 
and  dejence  of  himself  he  shall  think  it  necessary  to  lay  down  this 
right  to  all  things;  and  be  contented  with  so  much  liberty  against 
other  men  as  he  would  allow  other  men  against  himself.  For  as 
long  as  every  man  holdeth  this  right  of  doing  anything  he  liketh ; 
so  long  are  all  men  in  the  condition  of  war.  But  if  other  men  will 
not  lay  down  their  right,  as  well  as  he;  then  there  is  no  reason 
for  any  one  to  divest  himself  of  his:  for  that  were  to  expose  him- 
self to  prey,  which  no  man  is  bound  to,  rather  than  to  dispose 
himself  to  peace.  This  is  that  law  of  the  Gospel;  whatsoever 
you  require  that  others  should  do  to  you,  that  do  ye  to  them.  And 
that  law  of  all  men,  quod  tibi  fieri  non  vis,  alteri  ne  feceris. 

To  lay  down  a  man's  right  to  anything,  is  to  divest  himself 
of  the  liberty  of  hindering  another  of  the  benefit  of  his  own  right 
to  the  same.  For  he  that  renounceth,  or  passeth  away  his  right, 
giveth  not  to  any  other  man  a  right  which  he  had  not  before; 
because  there  is  nothing  to  which  every  man  had  not  right  by 
Nature:  but  only  standeth  out  of  his  way,  that  he  may  enjoy 
his  own  original  right,  without  hindrance  from  him;  not  without 
hindrance  from  another.  So  that  the  effect  which  redoundeth 
to  one  man,  by  another  man's  defect  of  right  is  but  so  much 
diminution  of  impediments  to  the  use  of  his  own  right  original. 

Right  is  laid  aside,  either  by  simply  renouncing  it ;  or  by  trans- 
ferring it  to  another.  By  simply  RENOUNCING  ;  when  he  cares 
not  to  whom  the  benefit  thereof  redoundeth.  By  TRANSFERRING  ; 
when  he  intendeth  the  benefit  thereof  to  some  certain  person  or 
persons.  And  when  a  man  hath  in  either  manner  abandoned, 
or  granted  away  his  right;  then  is  he  said  to  be  OBLIGED,  or 
BOUND,  not  to  hinder  those,  to  whom  such  right  is  granted,  or 
abandoned,  from  the  benefit  of  it:  and  that  he  ought,  and  it  is 
his  DUTY,  not  to  make  void  that  voluntary  act  of  his  own:  and 
that  such  hindrance  is  INJUSTICE,  and  INJURY,  as  being  sine  jure; 
the  right  being  before  renounced,  or  transferred.  So  that  injury, 
or  injustice,  in  the  controversies  of  the  world  is  somewhat  like  to 
that,  which  in  the  disputations  of  scholars  is  called  absurdity.  For 
as  it  is  there  called  an  absurdity,  to  contradict  what  one  main- 
tained  in  the  beginning:  so  in  the  world  it  is  called  injustice,  and 


LEVIATHAN  87 

injury,  voluntarily  to  undo  that,  which  from  the  beginning  he  had 
•voluntarily  done.  The  way  by  which  a  man  either  simply  re- 
nounceth,  or  transferreth  his  right,  is  a  declaration,  or  significa- 
tion, by  some  voluntary  and  sufficient  sign,  or  signs,  that  he  doth 
so  renounce,  or  transfer;  or  hath  so  renounced,  or  transferred 
the  same,  to  him  that  accepteth  it.  And  these  signs  are  either 
words  only,  or  actions  only :  or,  as  it  happeneth  most  often,  both 
words  and  actions.  And  the  same  are  the  BONDS,  by  which  men 
are  bound,  and  obliged :  bonds,  that  have  their  strength,  not  from 
their  own  nature,  for  nothing  is  more  easily  broken  than  a  man's 
word,  but  from  fear  of  some  evil  consequence  upon  the  rupture. 

Whensoever  a  man  transferreth  his  right,  or  renounceth  it;  it 
is  either  in  consideration  of  some  right  reciprocally  transferred 
to  himself;  or  for  some  other  good  he  hopeth  for  thereby.  For 
it  is  a  voluntary  act ;  and  of  the  voluntary  acts  of  every  man,  the 
object  is  some  good  to  himself.  And  therefore  there  be  some 
rights,  which  no  man  can  be  understood  by  any  words,  or  other 
signs,  to  have  abandoned,  or  transferred.  As  first  a  man  cannot 
lay  down  the  right  of  resisting  them,  that  assault  him  by  force, 
to  take  away  his  life;  because  he  cannot  be  understood  to  aim 
thereby,  at  any  good  to  himself.  The  same  may  be  said  of  wounds, 
and  chains,  and  imprisonment ;  both  because  there  is  no  benefit 
consequent  to  such  patience ;  as  there  is  to  the  patience  of  suffer- 
ing another  to  be  wounded,  or  imprisoned :  as  also  because  a  man 
cannot  tell,  when  he  seeth  men  proceed  against  him  by  violence, 
whether  they  intend  his  death  or  not.  And  lastly  the  motive  and 
end  for  which  this  renouncing  and  transferring  of  right  is  intro- 
duced, is  nothing  else  but  the  security  of  a  man's  person,  in  his 
life,  and  in  the  means  of  so  preserving  life,  as  not  to  be  weary  of 
it.  And  therefore  if  a  man  by  words,  or  other  signs,  seem  to 
despoil  himself  of  the  end,  for  which  those  signs  were  intended; 
he  is  not  to  be  understood  as  if  he  meant  it,  or  that  it  was  his  will; 
but  that  he  was  ignorant  of  how  such  words  and  actions  were  to 
be  interpreted. 

The  mutual  transferring  of  right  is  that  which  men  call  CON- 
TRACT. 

There  is  difference  between  transferring  of  right  to  the  thing; 


88  HOBBES 

and  transferring,  or  tradition,  that  is  delivery  of  the  thing  itself. 
For  the  thing  may  be  delivered  together  with  the  translation  of 
the  right;  as  in  buying  and  selling  with  ready-money;  or  exchange 
of  goods,  or  lands;  and  it  may  be  delivered  some  time  after. 

Again,  one  of  the  contractors,  may  deliver  the  thing  contracted 
for  on  his  part,  and  leave  the  other  to  perform  his  part  at  some 
determinate  time  after,  and  in  the  meantime  be  trusted ;  and  then 
the  contract  on  his  part  is  called  PACT,  or  COVENANT:  or  both 
parts  may  contract  now,  to  perform  hereafter;  in  which  cases,  he 
that  is  to  perform  in  time  to  come,  being  trusted,  his  perform- 
ance is  called  keeping  o)  promise,  or  faith;  and  the  failing  of 
performance,  if  it  be  voluntary,  violation  of  faith. 

When  the  transferring  of  right,  is  not  mutual :  but  one  of  the 
parties  transferreth,  in  hope  to  gain  thereby  friendship,  or  ser- 
vice from  another,  or  from  his  friends;  or  in  hope  to  gain  the 
reputation  of  charity;  or  magnanimity;  or  to  deliver  his  mind 
from  the  pain  of  compassion;  or  in  hope  of  reward  in  heaven; 
this  is  not  contract,  but  GIFT,  FREE  GIFT,  GRACE:  which  words 
signify  one  and  the  same  thing. 


CHAPTER  XV.    OF  OTHER  LAWS  OF  NATURE 

From  that  law  of  Nature,  by  which  we  are  obliged  to  transfer 
to  another,  such  rights,  as  being  retained,  hinder  the  peace  of 
mankind,  there  followeth  a  thiri;  which  is  this,  thai-men  perform 
their  covenants  made:  without  which,  covenants  are  in  vain,  and 
but  empty  words;  and  the  right  of  all  men  to  all  things  remaining, 
we  are  still  in  the  condition  of  war. 

And  in  this  law  of  Nature,  consisteth  the  fountain  and  original 
of  JUSTICE.  For  where  no  covenant  hath  preceded,  there  hath  no 
right  been  transferred,  and  every  man  has  right  to  everything; 
and  consequently,  no  action  can  be  unjust.  But  when  a  cove- 
nant is  made,  then  to  break  it  is  unjust :  and  the  definition  of  IN- 
JUSTICE, is  no  other  than  the  not  performance  of  covenant.  And 
whatsoever  is  not  unjust,  is  just. 

But  because  covenants  of  mutual  trust,  where  there  is  a  fear 


LEVIATHAN  89 

of  not  performance  on  either  part,  as  hath  been  said  in  the  former 
chapter,  are  invalid;  though  the  original  of  justice  be  the  making 
of  covenants;  yet  injustice  actually  there  can  be  none,  till  the 
cause  of  such  fear  be  taken  awa'y;  which  while  men  are  in  the 
natural  condition  of  war,  cannot  be  done.  Therefore  before  the 
names  of  just,  and  unjust  can  have  place,  there  must  be  some 
coercive  power,  to  compel  men  equally  to  the  performance  of 
their  covenants,  by  the  terror  of  some  punishment,  greater  than 
the  benefit  they  expect  by  the  breach  of  their  covenant;  and  to 
make  good  that  propriety,  which  by  mutual  contract  men  acquire, 
in  recompense  of  the  universal  right  they  abandon:  and  such 
power  there  is  none  before  the  erection  of  a  commonwealth. 
And  this  is  also  to  be  gathered  out  of  the  ordinary  definition  of 
justice  in  the  Schools:  for  they  say,  that  justice  is  the  constant 
will  of  giving  to  every  man  his  own.  And  therefore  where  there 
is  no  own,  that  is  no  propriety,  there  is  no  injustice;  and  where 
there  is  no  coercive  power  erected,  that  is,  where  there  is  no 
commonwealth,  there  is  no  propriety;  all  men  having  right  to  all 
things:  therefore  where  there  is  no  commonwealth,  there. nothing 
is  unjust.  So  that  the  nature  of  justice,  consisteth  in  keeping  of 
valid  covenants:  but  the  validity  of  covenants  begins  not  but 
with  the  constitution  of  a  civil  power,  sufficient  to  compel  men 
to  keep  them;  and  then  it  is  also  that  propriety  begins. 

As  justice  dependeth  on  antecedent  covenant;  so  does  GRATI- 
TUDE depend  on  antecedent  grace;  that  is  to  say,  antecedent 
free  gift :  and  is  the  foujlklaw  of  Nature ;  which  may  be  conceived 
in  this  form,  that  a  man  which  receiveth  benefit  jrom  another  oj 
mere  grace,  endeavour  that  he  which  giveth  it,  have  no  reasonable 
cause  to  repent  him  oj  his  good  will.  For  no  man  giveth,  but 
with  intention  of  good  to  himself ;  because  gift  is  voluntary ;  and 
of  all  voluntary  acts,  the  object  is  to  every  man  his  own  good; 
of  which  if  men  see  they  shall  be  frustrated,  there  will  be  no 
beginning  of  benevolence,  or  trust,  nor  consequently  of  mutual 
help;  nor  of  reconciliation  of  one  man  to  another;  and  therefore 
.  they  are  to  remain  still  in  the  condition  of  war;  which  is  contrary 
to  the  first  and  fundamental  law  of  Nature,  which  commandeth 


9o 


HOBBES 


men  to  seek  peace.  The  breach  of  this  law  is  called  ingratitude; 
and  hath  the  same  relation  to  grace,  that  injustice  hath  to  obli- 
gation by  covenant. 

Ajjfih^law  of  Nature  is  COMPLAISANCE;  that  is  to  say,  that 
every  man  strive  to  accommodate  himself  to  the  rest.  For  the  under- 
standing whereof,  we  may  consider,  that  there  is  in  men's  aptness 
to  society,  a  diversity  of  nature,  rising  from  their  diversity  of 
affections;  not  unlike  to  that  we  see  in  stones  brought  together 
for  building  of  an  edifice.  For  as  that  stone  which  by  the  asperity, 
and  irregularity  of  figure,  takes  more  room  from  others  than  itself 
fills;  and  for  the  hardness,  cannot  be  easily  made  plain,  and 
thereby  hindereth  the  building,  is  by  the  builders  cast  away  as 
unprofitable  and  troublesome:  so  also,  a  man  that  by  asperity  of 
nature,  will  strive  to  retain  those  things  which  to  himself  are 
superfluous,  and  to  others  necessary;  and  for  the  stubbornness 
of  his  passions,  cannot  be  corrected,  is  to  be  left,  or  cast  out  of 
society,  as  cumbersome  thereunto.  For  seeing  every  man,  not 
only  by  right,  but  also  by  necessity  of  nature,  is  supposed  to 
endeavour  all  he  can,  to  obtain  that  which  is  necessary  for  his 
conservation;  he  that  shall  oppose  himself  against  it,  for  things 
superfluous,  is  guilty  of  the  war  that  thereupon  is  to  follow; 
and  therefore  doth  that,  which  is  contrary  to  the  fundamental 
law  of  Nature,  which  commandeth  to  seek  peace.  The  observers 
of  this  law,  may  be  called  SOCIABLE,  the  Latins  call  them  corn- 
modi;  the  contrary,  stubborn,  insociable,  froward,  intractable. 

A  sixth  law  of  Nature  is  this,  that  upon  caution  of  the  future 
time,  a  man  ought  to  pardon  the  offences  past  oj  them  that  repenting, 
desire  it.  For  PARDON,  is  nothing  but  granting  of  peace;  which 
though  granted  to  them  that  persevere  in  their  hostility,  be  not 
peace,  but  fear;  yet  not  granted  to  them  that  give  caution  of  the 
future  time,  is  sign  of  an  aversion  to  peace;  and  therefore  con- 
trary to  the  law  of  Nature. 

A  s£.veotth  is,  that  in  revenges,  that  is,  retribution  of  evil  for 
evil,  men  look  not  at  the  greatness  oj  the  evil  past,  but  the  greatness 
of. the  good  to  follow.  Whereby  we  are  forbidden  to  inflict  punish- 
ment with  any  -other  design,  than  for  correction  of  the  offender, 
or  direction  of  others.  For  this  law  is  consequent  to  the  next 


LEVIATHAN  91 

before  it,  that  commandeth  pardon,  upon  security  of  the  future 
time.  Besides,  revenge,  without  respect  to  the  example,  and 
profit  to  come,  is  a  triumph  or  glorying  in  the  hurt  of  another, 
tending  to  no  end ;  for  the  end  is  always  somewhat  to  come ;  and 
glorying  to  no  end,  is  vain-glory,  and  contrary  to  reason,  and 
to  hurt  without  reason,  tendeth  to  the  introduction  of  war; 
which  is  against  the  law  of  Nature;  and  is  commonly  styled  by 
the  name  of  cruelty. 

And  because  all  signs  of  hatred,  or  contempt,  provoke  to  fight ; 
insomuch  as  most  men  choose  rather  to  hazard  their  life,  than 
not  to  be  revenged;  we  may  in  the  eighth  place,  for  a  law  of 
nature,  set  down  this  precept,  that  no  man  by  deed,  word,  coun- 
tenance, or  gesture,  declare  hatred,  or  contempt  o]  another.  The 
breach  of  which  law  is  commonly  called  contumely. 

The  question  who  is  the  better  man,  has  no  place  in  the  con- 
dition of  mere  nature;  where,  as  has  been  shewn  before,  all  men 
are  equal.  The  inequality  that  now  is,  has  been  introduced 
by  the  laws  civil.  I  know  that  Aristotle  in  the  first  book  of  his 
Politics,  for  a  foundation  of  his  doctrine,  maketh  men  by  nature, 
some  more  worthy  to  command,  meaning  the  wiser  sort,  such 
as  he  thought  himself  to  be  for  his  philosophy;  others  to  serve, 
meaning  those  that  had  strong  bodies,  but  were  not  philosophers 
as  he;  as  if  master  and  servant  were  not  introduced  by  consent 
of  men,  but  by  difference  of  wit ;  which  is  not  only  against  reason, 
but  also  against  experience.  For  there  are  very  few  so  foolish, 
that  had  not  rather  govern  themselves,  than  be  governed  by  others : 
nor  when  the  wise  in  their  own  conceit,  contend  by  force,  with 
them  who  distrust  their  own  wisdom,  do  they  always,  or  often,  or 
almost  at  any  time,  get  the  victory.  If  Nature  therefore  have 
made  them  equal,  that  equality  is  to  be  acknowledged:  or  if 
nature  have  made  men  unequal;  yet  because  men  that  think 
themselves  equal,  .will  not  enter  into  conditions  of  peace,  but 
upon  equal  terms,  such  equality  must  be  admitted.  And  there- 
fore for  the  ninjji^  law  of  Nature,  I  put  this,  that  every  man 
c  acknowledge  another  jor  his  equal  by  nature.  The  breach  of  this 

precept  is  pride. 
A      On  this  law  dependeth  another,  that  at  the  entrance  into  con- 


92  HOBBES 

ditions  0}  peace,  no  man  require  to  reserve  to  himself  any  right, 
which  he  is  not  content  should  be  reserved  to  every  one  of  the  rest. 
As  it  is  necessary  for  all  men  that  seek  peace,  to  lay  down  certain 
rights  of  nature;  that  is  to  say,  not  to  have  liberty  to  do  all  they 
list :  so  is  it  necessary  for  man's  life,  to  retain  some,  as  right  to 
govern  their  own  bodies;  enjoy  air,  water,  motion,  ways  to  go 
from  place  to  place;  and  all  things  else,  without  which  a  man 
cannot  live,  or  not  live  well.  If  in  this  case,  at  the  making  of 
peace,  men  require  for  themselves  that  which  they  would  not 
have  to  be  granted  to  others,  they  do  contrary  to  the  precedent 
law,  that  commandeth  the  acknowledgment  of  natural  equality, 
and  therefore  also  against  the  law  of  Nature.  The  observers  of 
this  law  are  those  we  call  modest,  and  the  breakers  arrogant 
men.  The  Greeks  call  the  violation  of  this  law  TrXtovegia,  that 
is,  a  desire  of  more  than  their  share. 

Also  if  a  man  be  trusted  to  judge  between  man  and  man,  it  is  a 
precept  of  the  law  of  Nature,  that  he  deal  equally  between  them. 
For  without  that,  the  controversies  of  men  cannot  be  determined 
but  by  war.  He  therefore  that  is  partial  in  judgment,  doth  what 
in  him  lies,  to  deter  men  from  the  use  of  judges  and  arbitrators; 
and  consequently,  against  the  fundamental  law  of  Nature,  is  the 
cause  of  war. 

The  observance  of  this  law,  from  the  equal  distribution  to 
each  man,  of  that  which  in  reason  belongeth  to  him,  is  called 
EQUITY,  and,  as  I  have  said  before,  distributive  justice:  the  viola- 
tion, acception  of  persons,  Trpoa-wiroXrj^a. 

And  from  this  followeth  another  law,  that  such  things  as  can- 
not be  divided,  be  enjoyed  in  common,  if  it  can  be;  and  if  the  quan- 
tity of  the  thing  permit,  without  stint;  otherwise  proportionably 
to  the  number  of  them  that  have  right.  For  otherwise  the  distri- 
bution is  unequal,  and  contrary  to  equity. 

But  some  things  there,  be,  that  can  neither  be  divided,  nor  en- 
joyed in  common.  Then,  the  law  of  Nature,  which  prescribeth 
equity,  requireth  that  the  entire  right,  or  else,  making  the  use 
alternate,  the  first  possession,  be  determined  by  lot.  For  equal  dis- 
tribution, is  of  the  law  of  Nature,  and  other  means  of  equal 
distribution  cannot  be  imagined. 


LEVIATHAN  93 

Of  lots  there  be  two  sorts,  arbitrary,  and  natural.  Arbitrary, 
is  that  which  is  agreed  on  by  the  competitors:  natural,  is  either 
primogeniture,  which  the  Greeks  call  KAr/poi/o/xia,  which  signifies, 
given  by  lot;  or  first  seizure. 

And  therefore  those  things  which  cannot  be  enjoyed  in  com- 
mon, nor  divided,  ought  to  be  adjudged  to  the  first  possessor;  and 
in  some  cases  to  the  first  born,  as  acquired  by  lot. 

It  is  also  a  law  of  Nature,  that  all  men  that  mediate  peace,  be 
allowed  safe  conduct.  For  the  law  that  commandeth  peace,  as 
the  end,  commandeth  intercession,  as  the  means;  and  to  inter- 
cession the  means  is  safe  conduct. 

And  because,  though  men  be  never  so  willing  to  observe  these 
laws,  there  may  nevertheless  arise  questions  concerning  a  man's 
action;  first,  whether  it  were  done,  or  not  done;  secondly,  if 
done,  whether  against  the  law,  or  not  against  the  law ;  the  former 
whereof,  is  called  a  question  of  fact;  the  latter  a  question  of 
right,  therefore  unless  the  parties  to  the  question  covenant 
mutually  to  stand  to  the  sentence  of  another,  they  are  as  far 
from  peace  as  ever.  This  other  to  whose  sentence  they  submit  is 
^called  an  ARBITRATOR.  And  therefore  it  is  of  the  law  of  Nature, 
that  they  that  are  at  controversy,  submit  their  right  to  the  judg- 
ment of  an  arbitrator. 

And  seeing  every  man  is  presumed  to  do  all  things  in  order  to 
his  own  benefit,  no  man  is  a  fit  arbitrator  in  his  own  cause;  and 
if  he  were  never  so  fit;  yet  equity  allowing  to  each  party  equal 
benefit,  if  one  be  admitted  to  be  judge,  the  other  is  to  be  admitted 
also;  and  so  the  controversy,  that  is,  the  cause  of  war,  remains 
against  the  law  of  Nature. 

For  the  same  reason  no  man  in  any  cause  ought  to  be  received 
for  arbitrator,  to  whom  greater  profit,  or  honour,  or  pleasure 
apparently  ariseth  out  of  the  victory  of  one  party  than  of  the 
other:  for  he  hath  taken,  though  an  unavoidable  bribe,  yet  a 
bribe;  and  no  man  can  be  obliged  to  trust  him.  And  thus  also 
the  controversy,  and  the  condition  of  war  remaineth,  contrary 
to  the  law  of  Nature. 

And  in  a  controversy  of  fact,  the  judge  being  to  give  no 
more  credit  to  one  than  to  the  other,  if  there  be  no  other  argu- 


94  HOBBES 

merits,  must  give  credit  to  a  third;  or  to  a  third  and  fourth;  or 
more:  for  else  the  question  is  undecided,  and  left  to  force,  con- 
trary to  the  law  of  Nature. 

These  are  the  laws  of  Nature,  dictating  peace,  for  a  means  of 
the  conservation  of  men  in  multitudes;  and  which  only  concern 
the  doctrine  of  civil  society.  There  be  other  things  tending  to 
the  destruction  of  particular  men;  as  drunkenness,  and  all  other 
parts  of  intemperance;  which  may  therefore  also  be  reckoned 
amongst  those  things  which  the  law  of  Nature  hath  forbidden ; 
but  are  not  necessary  to  be  mentioned,  nor  are  pertinent  enough 
to  this  place. 

And  though  this  may  seem  too  subtle  a  deduction  of  the  laws 
of  Nature  to  be  taken  notice  of  by  all  men ;  whereof  the  most  part 
are  too  busy  in  getting  food,  and  the  rest  too  negligent  to  under- 
stand; yet  to  leave  all  men  inexcusable,  they  have  been  con- 
tracted into  one  easy  sum,  intelligible  even  to  the  meanest  capa- 
city; and  that  is,  Do  not  that  to  another,  which  thou  wouldst  not 
have  done  to  thyself;  which  sheweth  him,  that  he  has  no  more 
to  do  in  learning  the  laws  of  nature,  but,  when  weighing  the  actions 
of  other  men  with  his  own,  they  seem  too  heavy,  to  put  them 
into  the  other  part  of  the  balance,  and  his  own  into  their  place, 
that  his  own  passions,  and  self-love,  may  add  nothing  to  the 
weight ;  and  then  there  is  none  of  these  laws  of  Nature  that  will 
not  appear  unto  him  very  reasonable. 

The  laws  of  Nature  oblige  in  \oro  interno;  that  is  to  say,  they 
bind  to  a  desire  they  should  take  place :  but  in  foro  externo;  that 
is,  to  the  putting  them  in  act,  not  always.  For  he  that  should  be 
modest,  and  tractable,  and  perform  all  he  promises,  in  such  time 
and  place  where  no  man  else  should  do  so,  should  but  make 
himself  a  prey  to  others,  and  procure  his  own  certain  ruin,  con- 
trary to  the  ground  of  all  laws  of  Nature,  which  tend  to  nature's 
preservation.  And  again,  he  that  having  sufficient  security,  that 
others  shall  observe  the  same  laws  towards  him,  observes  them 
not  himself,  seeketh  not  peace,  but  war;  and  consequently  the 
destruction  of  his  nature  by  violence. 

And  whatsoever  laws  bind  in  joro  interno,  may  be  broken,  not 
only  by  a  fact  contrary  to  the  law,  but  also  by  a  fact  according 


LEVIATHAN  95 

to  it,  in  case  a  man  think  it  contrary.  For  though  his  action  in 
this  case  be  according  to  the  law,  yet  his  purpose  was  against  the 
law;  which,  where  the  obligation  is  in  joro  interno,  is  a  breach. 

The  laws  nf  Tfofyrp  a.rp  immutable  and  eternal;  for  injustice, 
ingratitude,  arrogance,  pride,  iniquity,  acception  of  persons,  and 
the  rest,  can  never  be  made  lawful.  For  it  can  never  be  that  war 
shall  preserve  life,  and  peace  destroy  it. 

The  same  laws,  because  they  oblige  only  to  a  desire  and  en- 
deavour, I  mean  an  unfeigned  and  constant  endeavour,  are  easy 
to  be  observed.  For  in  that  they  require  nothing  but  endeavour, 
he  that  endeavoureth  their  performance,  fulfilleth  them;  and  he 
that  fulfilleth  the  law,  is  just. 

And  the  science  of  them  is  the  true  and  only  moral  philosophy. 
For  moral  philosophy  is  nothing  else  but  the  science  of  what  is 
good,  and  evil,  in  the  conversation  and  society  of  mankind.  Good, 
and  evil,  are  names  that  signify  our  appetites,  and  aversions; 
which  in  different  tempers,  customs,  and  doctrines  of  men,  are 
different :  and  divers  men,  differ  not  only  in  their  judgment,  on 
the  senses  of  what  is  pleasant,  and  unpleasant  to  the  taste,  smell, 
hearing,  touch,  and  sight;  but  also  of  what  is  conformable  or 
disagreeable  to  reason,  in  the  actions  of  common  life.  Nay,  the 
same  man,  in  divers  times,  differs  from  himself;  and  one  time 
praiseth,  that  is,  calleth  good,  what  another  time  he  dispraiseth, 
and  calleth  evil :  from  whence  arise  disputes,  controversies,  and 
at  last  war.  And  therefore  so  long  as  a  man  is  in  the  condition 
of  mere  nature,  which  is  a  condition  of  war,  as  private  appetite 
is  the  measure  of  good  and  evil :  and  consequently  all  men  agree 
on  this,  that  peace  is  good,  and  therefore  also  the  way  or  means 
of  peace,  which,  as  I  have  shewed  before,  are  justice,  gratitude, 
modesty,  equity,  mercy,  and  the  rest  of  the  laws  of  Nature,  are 
good ;  that  is  to  say,  moral  virtues;  and  their  contrary  vices,  evil. 
Now  the  science  of  virtue  and  vice,  is  moral  philosophy;  and 
therefore  the  true  doctrine  of  the  laws  of  Nature  is  the  true  moral 
philosophy.  But  the  writers  of  moral  philosophy,  though  they 
acknowledge  the  same  virtues  and  vices;  yet  not  seeing  wherein 
consisted  their  goodness;  nor  that  they  come  to  be  praised,  as 
the  means  of  peaceable,  sociable,  and  comfortable  living,  place 


96  HOBBES 

them  in  a  mediocrity  of  passions:  as  if  not  the  cause,  but  the 
degree  of  daring,  made  fortitude;  or  not  the  cause,  but  the 
quantity  of  a  gift,  made  liberality. 

These  dictates  of  reason,  men  used  to  call  by  the  name  of 
laws,  but  improperly :  for  they  are  but  conclusions,  or  theorems 
concerning  what  conduceth  to  the  conservation  and  defence 
of  themselves ;  whereas  law,  properly,  is  the  word  of  him  that  by 
right  hath  command  over  others.  But  yet  if  we  consider  the  same 
theorems,  as  delivered  in  the  word  of  God,  that  by  right  com- 
mandeth  all  things;  then  are  they  properly  called  laws. 


PART  II.  — OF  COMMONWEALTH 

CHAPTER   XVII.      OF    THE   CAUSES,    GENERA- 
TION,   AND   DEFINITION    OF   A    COMMON- 
WEALTH 

The  final  cause,  end,  or  design  of  men,  who  naturally  love 
liberty,  and  dominion  over  others,  in  the  introduction  of  that 
restraint  upon  themselves,  in  which  we  see  them  live  in  common- 
wealths, is  the  foresight  of  their  own  preservation,  and  of  a  more 
contented  life  thereby;  that  is  to  say,  of  getting  themselves  out 
from  that  miserable  condition  of  war,  which  is  necessarily  con- 
sequent, as  hath  been  shown  in  chapter  xiii,  to  the  natural 
passions  of  men,  when  there  is  no  visible  power  to  keep  them  in 
awe,  and  tie  them  by  fear  of  punishment  to  the  performance  of 
their  covenants,  and  observation  of  those  laws  of  Nature  set  down 
in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  chapters. 

For  the  laws  of  Nature,  as  justice,  equity,  modesty,  mercy,  and, 
in  sum,  doing  to  others,  as  we  would  be  done  to,  of  themselves, 
without  the  terror  of  some  power,  to  cause  them  to  be  observed, 
are  contrary  to  our  natural  passions,  that  carry  us  to  partiality, 
pride,  revenge,  and  the  like.  And  covenants,  without  the  sword, 
are  but  words,  and  of  no  strength  to  secure  a  man  at  all.  There- 
fore notwithstanding  the  laws  of  nature,  which  every  one  hath 
then  kept,  when  he  has  the  will  to  keep  them,  when  he  can  do  it 


LEVIATHAN  97 

safely,  if  there  be  no  power  erected,  or  not  great  enough  for  our 
security,  every  man  will,  and  may  lawfully  rely  on  his  own 
strength  and  art,  for  caution  against  all  other  men.  And  in  all 
places,  where  men  have  lived  by  small  families,  to  rob  and  spoil 
one  another,  has  been  a  trade,  and  so  far  from  being  reputed 
against  the  law  of  Nature,  that  the  greater  spoils  they  gained, 
the  greater  was  their  honour;  and  men  observed  no  other  laws 
therein,  but  the  laws  of  honour;  that  is,  to  abstain  from  cruelty, 
leaving  to  men  their  lives,  and  instruments  of  husbandry.  And 
as  small  families  did  then ;  so  now  do  cities  and  kingdoms,  which 
are  but  greater  families,  for  their  own  security,  enlarge  their 
dominions,  upon  all  pretences  of  danger,  and  fear  of  invasion, 
or  assistance  that  may  be  given  to  invaders,  and  endeavour  as 
much  as  they  can,  to  subdue,  or  weaken  their  neighbours,  by 
open  force  and  secret  arts,  for  want  of  other  caution,  justly;  and 
are  remembered  for  it  in  after  ages  with  honour. 

Nor  is  it  the  joining  together  of  a  small  number  of  men,  that 
gives  them  this  security;  because  in  small  numbers,  small  addi- 
tions on  the  one  side  or  the  other,  make  the  advantage  of  strength 
so  great,  as  is  sufficient  to  carry  the  victory;  and  therefore  gives 
encouragement  to  an  invasion.  The  multitude  sufficient  to  con- 
fide in  for  our  security,  is  not  determined  by  any  certain  number, 
but  by  comparisQn  with  the  enemy  we  fear;  and  is  then  sufficient 
when  the  odds  of  the  enemy  is  not  of  so  visible  and  conspicuous 
moment,  to  determine  the  event  of  war,  as  to  move  him  to  attempt. 

And  be  there  never  so  great  a  multitude;  yet  if  their  actions 
be  directed  according  to  their  particular  judgments,  and  particu- 
lar appetites,  they  can  expect  thereby  no  defence,  nor  protection, 
neither  against  a  common  enemy,  nor  against  the  injuries  of  one 
another.  For  being  distracted  in  opinions  concerning  the  best 
use  and  application  of  their  strength,  they  do  not  help  but  hinder 
one  another;  and  reduce  their  strength  by  mutual  opposition  to 
nothing:  whereby  they  are  easily,  not  only  subdued  by  a  very 
few  that  agree  together;  but  also  when  there  is  no  common 
enemy,  they  make  war  upon  each  other,  for  their  particular 
interests.  For  if  we  could  suppose  a  great  multitude  of  men  to 
consent  in  the  observation  of  justice,  and  other  laws  of  Nature, 


98  HOBBES 

without  a  common  power  to  keep  them  all  in  awe;  we  might  as 
well  suppose  all  mankind  to  do  the  same ;  and  then  there  neither 
would  be,  nor  need  to  be  any  civil  government  or  commonwealth 
at  all;  because  there  would  be  peace  without  subjection. 

Nor  is  it  enough  for  the  security,  which  men  desire  should  last 
all  the  time  of  their  life,  that  they  be  governed,  and  directed  by 
one  judgment,  for  a  limited  time;  as  in  one  battle,  or  one  war. 
For  though  they  obtain  a  victory  by  their  unanimous  endeavour 
against  a  foreign  enemy;  yet  afterwards,  when  either  they  have 
no  common  enemy,  or  he  that  by  one  part  is  held  for  an  enemy, 
is  by  another  part  held  for  a  friend,  they  must  needs  by  the 
difference  of  their  interests  dissolve,  and  fall  again  into  a  war 
amongst  themselves. 

It  is  true,  that  certain  living  creatures,  as  bees  and  ants,  live 
sociably  one  with  another,  which  are  therefore  by  Aristotle 
numbered  amongst  political  creatures;  and  yet  have  no  other 
direction,  than  their  particular  judgments  and  appetites;  nor 
speech,  whereby  one  of  them  can  signify  to  another,  what  he 
thinks  expedient  for  the  common  benefit:  and  therefore  some 
man  may  perhaps  desire  to  know,  why  mankind  cannot  do  the 
same.  To  which  I  answer, 

First,  that  men  are  continually  in  competition  for  honour  and 
dignity,  which  these  creatures  are  not ;  and  consequently  amongst 
men  there  ariseth  on  that  ground,  envy  and  hatred,  and  finally 
war;  but  amongst  these  not  so. 

Secondly,  that  amongst  these  creatures,  the  common  good 
differeth  not  from  the  private;  and  being  by  nature  inclined  to 
their  private,  they  procure  thereby  the  common  benefit.  But 
man,  whose  joy  consisteth  in  comparing  himself  with  other  men, 
can  relish  nothing  but  what  is  eminent. 

Thirdly,  that  these  creatures,  having  not,  as  man,  the  use  of 
reason,  do  not  see,  nor  think  they  see  any  fault,  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  their  common  business;  whereas  amongst  men,  there 
are  very  many  that  think  themselves  wiser,  and  abler  to  govern 
the  public,  better  than  the  rest;  and  these  strive  to  reform  and 
innovate,  one  this  way,  another  that  way;  and  thereby  bring  it 
into  distraction  and  civil  war. 


LEVIATHAN  99 

Fourthly,  that  these  creatures,  though  they  have  some  use  of 
voice,  in  making  known  to  one  another  their  desires  and  other 
affections;  yet  they  want  that  art  of  words,  by  which  some  men 
can  represent  to  others,  that  which  is  good,  in  the  likeness  of  evil; 
and  evil,  in  the  likeness  of  good ;  and  augment,  or  diminish  the 
apparent  greatness  of  good  and  evil;  discontenting  men,  and 
troubling  their  peace  at  their  pleasure. 

Fifthly,  irrational  creatures  cannot  distinguish  between  injury, 
and  damage;  and  therefore  as  long  as  they  be  at  ease,  they  are 
not  offended  with  their  fellows:  whereas  man  is  then  most 
troublesome,  when  he  is  most  at  ease ;  for  then  it  is  that  he  loves 
to  shew  his  wisdom,  and  control  the  actions  of  them  that  govern 
the  commonwealth. 

Lastly,  the  agreement  of  these  creatures  is  natural;  that  of 
men,  is  by  covenant  only,  which  is  artificial :  and  therefore  it  is 
no  wonder  if  there  be  somewhat  else  required,  besides  covenant, 
to  make  their  agreement  constant  and  lasting;  which  is  a  com- 
mon power,  to  keep  them  in  awe,  and  to  direct  their  actions  to 
the  common  benefit. 

The  only  way  to  erect  such  a  common  power,  as  may  be  able 
to  defend  them  from  the  invasion  of  foreigners,  and  the  injuries 
of  one  another,  and  thereby  to  secure  them  in  such  sort,  as  that 
by  their  own  industry,  and  by  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  they  may 
nourish  themselves,  and  live  contentedly;  is,  to  confer  all  their 
power  and  strength  upon  one  man,  or  upon  one  assembly  of 
men,  that  may  reduce  all  their  wills,  by  plurality  of  voices,  unto 
one  will:  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  to  appoint  one  man,  or 
assembly  of  men,  to  bear  their  person ;  and  every  one  to  own,  and 
acknowledge  himself  to  be  author  of  whatsoever  he  that  so  bear- 
eth  their  person,  shall  act,  or  cause  to  be  acted,  in  those  things 
which  concern  the  common  peace  and  safety;  and  therein  to 
submit  their  wills,  every  one  to  his  will,  and  their  judgments,  to 
his  judgment.  This  is  more  than  consent,  or  concord;  it  is  a  real 
unity  of  them  all,  in  one  and  the  same  person,  made  by  covenant 
of  every  man  with  every  man,  in  such  manner,  as  if  every  man 
should  say  to  every  man,  /  authorize  and  give  up  my  right  of 
governing  myself,  to  this  man,  or  to  this  assembly  of  men,  on  this 


ioo  HOBBES 

condition,  that  thou  give  up  thy  right  to  him,  and  authorize  all  his 
actions  in  like  manner.  This  done,  the  multitude  so  united  in 
one  person  is  called  a  COMMONWEALTH,  in  Latin  CIVITAS.  This 
is  the  generation  of  that  great  LEVIATHAN,  or  rather,  to  speak 
more  reverently,  of  that  mortal  god,  to  which  we  owe  under  the 
immortal  God,  our  peace  and  defence.  For  by  this  authority, 
given  him  by  every  particular  man  in  the  Commonwealth,  he 
hath  the  use  of  so  much  power  and  strength  conferred  on  him, 
that  by  terror  thereof,  he  is  enabled  to  perform  the  wills  of  them 
all,  to  peace  at  home,  and  mutual  aid  against  their  enemies 
abroad.  And  in  him  consisteth  the  essence  of  the  Commonwealth ; 
which,  to  define  it,  is  one  person,  of  whose  acts  a  great  multitude, 
by  mutual  covenants  one  with  another,  have  made  themselves  every 
one  the  author,  to  the  end  he  may  use  the  strength  and  means  of 
them  all,  as  he  shall  think  expedient,  jor  their  peace  and  com- 
mon defence. 

And  he  that  carrieth  this  person  is  called  SOVEREIGN,  and  said 
to  have  sovereign  power;  and  every  one  besides,  his  SUBJECT. 

The  attaining  to  this  sovereign  power  is  by  two  ways.  One,  by 
natural  force;  as  when  a  man  maketh  his  children  to  submit 
themselves,  and  their  children,  to  his  government,  as  being  able 
to  destroy  them  if  they  refuse;  or  by  war  subdueth  his  enemies  to 
his  will,  giving  them  their  lives  on  that  condition.  The  other  is, 
when  men  agree  amongst  themselves  to  submit  to  some  man 
or  assembly  of  men,  voluntarily,  on  confidence  to  be  protected 
by  him  against  all  others.  This  latter  may  be  called  a  polit- 
ical commonwealth,  or  commonwealth  by  institution;  and  the 
former,  a  commonwealth  by  acquisition. 


. 


RENE  DESCARTES 

(1596-1650) 

DISCOURSE   ON  METHOD 

Translated  from  the  French  *  by 
JOHN   VEITCH 

PART  I 

GOOD  SENSE  is,  of  all  things  among  men,  the  most  equally 
distributed;  for  every  one  thinks  himself  so  abundantly  pro- 
vided with  it,  that  those  even  who  are  the  most  difficult  to  satisfy 
in  everything  else,  do  not  usually  desire  a  larger  measure  of  this 
quality  than  they  already  possess.  And  in  this  it  is  not  likely 
that  all  are  mistaken:  the  conviction  is  rather  to  be  held  as 
testifying  that  the  power  of  judging  aright  and  of  distinguishing 
Truth  from  Error,  which  is  properly  what  is  called  Good  Sense 
or  Reason,  is  by  nature  equal  in  all  men ;  and  that  the  diversity 
of  our  opinions,  consequently,  does  not  arise  from  some  being 
endowed  with  a  larger  share  of  Reason  than  others,  but  solely 
from  this,  that  we  conduct  our  thoughts  along  different  ways, 
and  do  not  fix  our  attention  on  the  same  objects.  For  to  be 
possessed  of  a  vigorous  mind  is  not  enough;  the  prime  requisite 
>is~rightly  to  apply  it.  The  greatest  minds,  as  they  are  capable 
61  the  highest  excellencies,  are  open  likewise  to  the  greatest 
aberrations;  and  those  who  travel  very  slowly  may  yet  make 
far  greater  progress,  provided  they  keep  always  to  the  straight 
road,  than  those  who,  while  they  run,  forsake  it. 

For  myself,  I  have  never  fancied  my  mind  to  be  in  any  respect 

*  Translated  from  the  Discours  de  la  Methode  pour  bien  conduire  sa  raison  et 
chercher  de  la  verite  dans  les  sciences,  Leyde,  1637;  Lat.  [by  G.  de  Courcelles] 
Specimina  Philosophiae,  anno  1644  (revised  by  Descartes).  The  original  French 
edition,  which  was  made  the  basis  of  the  translation,  was  minutely  compared 
by  the  translator  with  the  revised  Latin  edition,  and  preference  given  to  the 
amendments  of  Descartes.  The  translation  appeared  in  1850  and  entered  its 
thirteenth  edition  in  1902. 


102  DESCARTES 

more  perfect  than  those  of  the  generality;  on  the  contrary,  I  have 
often  wished  that  I  were  equal  to  some  others  in  promptitude  of 
thought,  or  in  clearness  and  distinctness  of  imagination,  or  in 
fulness  and  readiness  of  memory.  And  besides  these,  I  know  of 
no  other  qualities  that  contribute  to  the  perfection  of  the  mind; 
for  as  to  the  Reason  or  Sense,  inasmuch  as  it  is  that  alone  which 
constitutes  us  men,  and  distinguishes  us  from  the  brutes,  I  am 
disposed  to  believe  that  it  is  to  be  found  complete  in  each  indi- 
vidual; and  on  this  point  to  adopt  the  common  opinion  of 
philosophers,  who  say  that  the  difference  of  greater  and  less 
holds  only  among  the  accidents,  and  not  among  the  forms  or 
natures  of  individuals  of  the  same  species. 

I  will  not  hesitate,  however,  to  avow  my  belief  that  it  has  been 
my  singular  good  fortune  to  have  very  early  in  life  fallen  in  with 
certain  tracks  which  have  conducted  me  to  considerations  and 
maxims,  of  which  I  have  formed  a  Method  that  gives  me  the 
means,  as  I  think,  of  gradually  augmenting  my  knowledge,  and 
of  raising  it  by  little  and  little  to  the  highest  point  which  the 
mediocrity  of  my  talents  and  the  brief  duration  of  my  life  will 
permit  me  to  reach.  For  I  have  already  reaped  from  it  such  fruits 
that,  although  I  have  been  accustomed  to  think  lowly  enough 
of  myself,  and  although  when  I  look  with  the  eye  of  a  philoso- 
pher at  the  varied  courses  and  pursuits  of  mankind  at  large,  I 
find  scarcely  one  which  does  not  appear  vain  and  useless,  I  nev- 
ertheless derive  the  highest  satisfaction  from  the  progress  I 
conceive  myself  to  have  already  made  in  the  search  after  truth, 
and  cannot  help  entertaining  such  expectations  of  the  future  as 
to  believe  that  if,  among  the  occupations  of  men  as  men,  there 
is  any  one  really  excellent  and  important,  it  is  that  which  I  have 
chosen. 

After  all,  it  is  possible  I  may  be  mistaken;  and  it  is  but  a  little 
copper  and  glass,  perhaps,  that  I  take  for  gold  and  diamonds. 
I  know  how  very  liable  we  are  to  delusion  in  what  relates  to  our- 
selves, and  also  how  much  the  judgments  of  our  friends  are  to 
be  suspected  when  given  in  our  favour.  But  I  shall  endeavour 
in  this  Discourse  to  describe  the  paths  I  have  followed,  and  to 
delineate  my  life  as  in  a  picture,  in  order  that  each  one  may  be 


DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  103 

able  to  judge  of  them  for  himself,  and  that  in  the  general  opinion 
entertained  of  them,  as  gathered  from  current  report,  I  myself 
may  have  a  new  help  towards  instruction  to  be  added  to  those 
I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  employing. 

My  present  design,  then,  is  not  to  teach  the  Method  which 
each  ought  to  follow  for  the  right  conduct  of  his  Reason,  but 
solely  to  describe  the  way  in  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  con- 
duct my  own.  They  who  set  themselves  to  give  precepts  must 
of  course  regard  themselves  as  possessed  of  greater  skill  than 
those  to  whom  they  prescribe;  and  if  they  err  in  the  slightest 
particular,  they  subject  themselves  to  censure.  But  as  this  Tract 
is  put  forth  merely  as  a  history,  or,  if  you  will,  as  a  tale,  in  which, 
amid  some  examples  worthy  of  imitation,  there  will  be  found, 
perhaps,  as  many  more  which  it  were  advisable  not  to  follow, 
I  hope  it  will  prove  useful  to  some  without  being  hurtful  to  any, 
and  that  my  openness  will  find  some  favour  with  all. 

From  my  childhood,  I  have  been  familiar  with  letters;  and  as 
I  was  given  to  believe  that  by  their  help  a  clear  and  certain  know- 
ledge of  all  that  is  useful  in  life  might  be  acquired,  I  was  ardently 
desirous  of  instruction.  But  as  soon  as  I  had  finished  the  entire 
course  of  study,  at  the  close  of  which  it  is  customary  to  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  order  of  the  learned,  I  completely  changed  my 
opinion.  For  I  found  myself  involved  in  so  many  doubts  and 
errors,  that  I  was  convinced  I  had  advanced  no  farther  in  all  my 
attempts  at  teaming,  than  the  discovery  at  every  turn  of  my  own 
ignorance.  And  yet  I  was  studying  in  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
Schools  in  Europe,  in  which  I  thought  there  must  be  learned 
men,  if  such  were  anywhere  to  be  found.  I  had  been  taught  all 
that  others  learned  there;  and  not  contented  with  the  sciences 
actually  taught  us,  I  had,  in  addition,  read  all  the  books  that  had 
fallen  into  my  hands,  treating  of  such  branches  as  are  esteemed 
the  most  curious  and  rare.  I  knew  the  judgment  which  others 
had  formed  of  me;  and  I  did  not  find  that  I  was  considered  in- 
ferior to  my  fellows,  although  there  were  among  them  some  who 
were  already  marked  out  to  fill  the  places  of  our  instructors.  And, 
in  fine,  our  age  appeared  to  me  as  flourishing,  and  as  fertile  in 
powerful  minds  as  any  preceding  one.  I  was  thus  led  to  take  the 


io4  DESCARTES 

liberty  of  judging  of  all  other  men  by  myself,  and  of  concluding 
that  there  was  no  science  in  existence  that  was  of  such  a  nature 
as  I  had  previously  been  given  to  believe. 

I  still  continued,  however,  to  hold  in  esteem  the  studies  of  the 
Schools.  I  was  aware  that  the  Languages  taught  in  them  are 
necessary  to  the  understanding  of  the  writings  of  the  ancients; 
that  the  grace  of  Fable  stirs  the  mind;  that  the  memorable 
deeds  of  History  elevate  it;  and,  if  read  with  discretion,  aid  in 
forming  the  judgment;  that  the  perusal  of  all  excellent  books  is, 
as  it  were,  to  interview  with  the  noblest  men  of  past  ages,  who 
have  written  them,  and  even  a  studied  interview,  in  which  are 
discovered  to  us  only  their  choicest  thoughts ;  that  Eloquence  has 
incomparable  force  and  beauty;  that  Poesy  has  its  ravishing 
graces  and  delights;  that  in  the  Mathematics  there  are  many 
refined  discoveries  eminently  suited  to  gratify  the  inquisitive,  as 
well  as  further  all  the  arts  and  lessen  the  labour  of  man;  that 
numerous  highly  useful  precepts  and  exhortations  to  virtue  are 
contained  in  treatises  on  Morals;  that  Theology  points  out  the 
path  to  heaven ;  that  Philosophy  affords  the  means  of  discoursing 
with  an  appearance  of  truth  on  all  matters,  and  commands  the 
admiration  of  the  more  simple;  that  Jurisprudence,  Medicine, 
and  the  other  Sciences,  secure  for  their  cultivators  honours 
and  riches ;  and,  in  fine,  that  it  is  useful  to  bestow  some  attention 
upon  all,  even  upon  those  abounding  the  most  in  superstition 
and  error,  that  we  may  be  in  a  position  to  determine  their  real 
value,  and  guard  against  being  deceived. 

But  I  believed  that  I  had  already  given  sufficient  time  to  Lan- 
guages, and  likewise  to  the  reading  of  the  writings  of  the  ancients, 
to  their  Histories  and  Fables.  For  to  hold  converse  with  those 
of  other  ages  and  to  travel,  are  almost  the  same  thing.  It  is  useful 
to  know  something  of  the  manners  of  different  nations,  that  we 
may  be  enabled  to  form  a  more  correct  judgment  regarding  our 
own,  and  be  prevented  from  thinking  that  everything  contrary 
to  our  customs  is  ridiculous  and  irrational,  —  a  conclusion  usually 
come  to  by  those  whose  experience  has  been  limited  to  their  own 
country.  On  the  other  hand,  when  too  much  time  is  occupied 
in  travelling,  we  become  strangers  to  our  native  country;  and 


DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  105 

the  over  curious  in  the  customs  of  the  past  are  generally  ignorant 
of  those  of  the  present.  Besides,  fictitious  narratives  lead  us  to 
imagine  the  possibility  of  many  events  that  are  impossible;  and 
even  the  most  faithful  histories,  if  they  do  not  wholly  misre- 
present matters,  or  exaggerate  their  importance  to  render  the 
account  of  them  more  worthy  of  perusal,  omit,  at  least,  almost 
always  the  meanest  and  least  striking  of  the  attendant  circum- 
stances; hence  it  happens  that  the  remainder  does  not  represent 
the  truth,  and  that  such  as  regulate  their  conduct  by  examples 
drawn  from  this  source,  are  apt  to  fall  into  the  extravagances 
of  the  knight- errants  of  Romance,  and  to  entertain  projects  that 
exceed  their  powers. 

I  esteemed  Eloquence  highly,  and  was  in  raptures  with 
Poesy;  but  I  thought  that  both  were  gifts  of  nature  rather  than 
fruits  of  study.  Those  in  whom  the  faculty  of  Reason  is  pre- 
dominant,  and  who  most  skilfully  dispose  their  thoughts  with  a 
view  to  render  them  clear 'and  intelligible,  are  always  the  best 
able  to  persuade  others  of  the  truth  of  what  they  lay  down, 
though  they  should  speak  only  in  the  language  of  Lower  Brit- 
tany, and  be  wholly  ignorant  of  the  rules  of  Rhetoric ;  and  those 
whose  minds  are  stored  with  the  most  agreeable  fancies,  and 
who  can  give  expression  to  them  with  the  greatest  embellish- 
ment and  harmony,  are  still  the  best  poets,  though  unacquainted 
with  the  Art  of  Poetry. 

I  was  especially  delighted  with  the  Mathematics,  on  account 
of  the  certitude  and  evidence  of  their  reasonings:  but  I  had  not 
as  yet  a  precise  knowledge  of  their  true  use;  and  thinking  that 
they  but  contributed  to  the  advancement  of  the  mechanical  arts, 
I  was  astonished  that  foundations,  so  strong  and  solid,  should 
have  had  no  loftier  superstructure  reared  on  them.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  compared  the  disquisitions  of  the  ancient  Moralists 
to  very  towering  and  magnificent  palaces  with  no  better  foun- 
dation than  sand  and  mud:  they  laud  the  virtues  very  highly, 
and  exhibit  them  as  estimable  far  above  anything  on  earth;  but 
they  give  us  no  adequate  criterion  of  virtue,  and  frequently  that 
which  they  designate  with  so  fine  a  name  is  but  apathy,  or  pride, 
or  despair,  or  parricide. 


io6  DESCARTES 

I  revered  our  Theology,  and  aspired  as  much  as  any  one  to 
reach  heaven :  but  being  given  assuredly  to  understand  that  the 
way  is  not  less  open  to  the  most  ignorant  than  to  the  most  learned, 
and  that  the  revealed  truths  which  lead  to  heaven  are  above  our 
comprehension,  I  did  not  presume  to  subject  them  to  the  impo- 
tency  of  my  Reason;  and  I  thought  that  in  order  competently  to 
undertake  their  examination,  there  was  need  of  some  special 
help  from  heaven,  and  of  being  more  than  man. 

Of  Philosophy  I  will  say  nothing,  except  that  when  I  saw 
that  it  had  been  cultivated  for  many  ages  by  the  most  distin- 
guished men,  and  that  yet  there  is  not  a  single  matter  within  its 
sphere  which  is  not  still  in  dispute,  and  nothing,  therefore,  which 
is  above  doubt,  I  did  not  presume  to  anticipate  that  my  success 
would  be  greater  in  it  than  that  of  others;  and  further,  when  I  con- 
sidered the  number  of  conflicting  opinions  touching  a  single 
matter  that  may  be  upheld  by  learned  men,  while  there  can  be 
but  one  true,  I  reckoned  as  .well-nigh  false  all  that  was  only 
probable. 

As  to  the  other  Sciences,  inasmuch  as  these  borrow  their 
principles  from  Philosophy,  I  judged  that  no  solid  superstruc- 
tures could  be  reared  on  foundations  so  infirm;  and  neither  the 
honour  nor  the  gain  held  out  by  them  was  sufficient  to  determine 
me  to  their  cultivation :  for  I  was  not,  thank  Heaven,  in  a  con- 
dition which  compelled  me  to  make  merchandise  of  Science  for 
the  bettering  of  my  fortune ;  and  though  I  might  not  profess  to 
scorn  glory  as  a  Cynic,  I  yet  made  very  slight  account  of  that 
honour  which  I  hoped  to  acquire  only  through  fictitious  titles. 
And,  in  fine,  of  false  Sciences  I  thought  I  knew  the  worth  suffi- 
ciently to  escape  being  deceived  by  the  professions  of  an  alche- 
mist, the  predictions  of  an  astrologer,  the  impostures  of  a  magi- 
cian, or  by  the  artifices  and  boasting  of  any  of  those  who  profess 
to  know  things  of  which  they  are  ignorant. 

For  these  reasons,  as  soon  as  my  age  permitted  me  to  pass 
from  under  the  control  of  my  instructors,  I  entirely  abandoned 
the  study  of  letters,  and  resolved  no  longer  to  seek  any  other 
science  than  the  knowledge  of  myself,  or  of  the  great  book  of  the 
world.  I  spent  the  remainder  of  my  youth  in  travelling,  in  visit- 


DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  107 

ing  courts  and  armies,  in  holding  intercourse  with  men  of  differ- 
ent dispositions  and  ranks,  in  collecting  varied  experience,  in 
proving  myself  in  the  different  situations  into  which  fortune 
threw  me,  and,  above  all,  in  making  such  reflection  on  the  matter 
of  my  experience  as  to  secure  my  improvement.  For  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  should  find  much  more  truth  in  the  reasonings  of 
each  individual  with  reference  to  the  affairs  in  which  he  is  per- 
sonally interested,  and  the  issue  of  which  must  presently  punish 
him  if  he  has  judged  amiss,  than  in  those  conducted  by  a  man  of 
letters  in  his  study,  regarding  speculative  matters  that  are  of  no 
practical  moment,  and  followed  by  no  consequences  to  himself, 
farther,  perhaps,  than  that  they  foster  his  vanity  the  better  the 
more  remote  they  are  from  common  sense;  requiring,  as  they 
must  in  this  case,  the  exercise  of  greater  ingenuity  and  art  to 
render  them  probable.  In  addition,  I  had  always  a  most  earnest 
desire  to  know  how  to  distinguish  the  true  from  the  false,  in 
order  that  I  might  be  able  clearly  to  discriminate  the  right  path 
in  life,  and  proceed  in  it  with  confidence. 

It  is  true  that,  while  busied  only  in  considering  the  manners 
of  other  men,  I  found  here,  too,  scarce  any  ground  for  settled 
conviction,  and  remarked  hardly  less  contradiction  among  them 
than  in  the 'Opinions  of  the  philosophers.  So  that  the  greatest 
advantage  I  derived  from  the  study  consisted  in  this,  that, 
observing  many  things  which,  however  extravagant  and  ridicu- 
lous to  our  apprehension,  are  yet  by  common  consent  received 
and  approved  by  other  great  nations,  I  learned  to  entertain 
too  decided  a  belief  in  regard  to  nothing  of  the  truth  of  which  I 
had  been  persuaded  merely  by  example  and  custom :  and  thus  I 
gradually  extricated  myself  from  many  errors  powerful  enough 
to  darken  our  Natural  Intelligence,  and  incapacitate  us  in  great 
measure  from  listening  to  Reason.  But  after  I  had  been  occupied 
several  years  in  thus  studying  the  book  of  the  world,  and  in 
essaying  to  gather  some  experience,  I  at  length  resolved  to  make 
myself  an  object  of  study,  and  to  employ  all  the  powers  of  my 
mind  in  choosing  the  paths  I  ought  to  follow;  an  undertaking 
which  was  accompanied  with  greater  success  than  it  .would  have 
been  had  I  never  quitted  my  country  or  my  books. 


io8  DESCARTES 

PART  II 

I  was  then  in  Germany,  attracted  thither  by  the  wars  in  that 
country,  which  have  not  yet  been  brought  to  a  termination; 
and  as  I  was  returning  to  the  army  from  the  coronation  of  the 
Emperor,  the  setting  in  of  winter  arrested  me  in  a  locality  where, 
as  I  found  no  society  to  interest  me,  and  was  besides  fortunately 
undisturbed  by  any  cares  or  passions,  I  remained  the  whole  day 
in  seclusion,1  with  full  opportunity  to  occupy  my  attention  with 
my  own  thoughts.  Of  these  one  of  the  very  first  that  occurred 
to  me  was,  that  [there  is  seldom  so  much  perfection  in  works 
composed  of  many  separate  parts,  upon  which  different  hands 
have  been  employed,  as  in  those  completed  by  a  single  master^ 
Thus  it  is  observable  that  the  buildings  which  a  single  archi- 
tect has  planned  and  executed,  are  generally  more  elegant  and 
commodious  than  those  which  several  have  attempted  to  improve, 
by  making  old  walls  serve  for  purposes  for  which  they  were  not 
originally  built.  Thus  also,  those  ancient  cities  which,  from  being 
at  first  only  villages,  have  become,  in  course  of  time,  large  towns, 
are  usually  but  ill  laid  out  compared  with  the  regularly  con- 
structed towns  which  a  professional  architect  has  freely  planned 
on  an  open  plain;  so  that  although  the  several  buildings  of 
the  former  may  often  equal  or  surpass  in  beauty  those  of  the 
latter,  yet  when  one  observes  their  indiscriminate  juxtaposition, 
there  a  large  one  and  here  a  small,  and  the  consequent  crooked- 
ness and  irregularity  of  the  streets,  one  is  disposed  to  allege 
that  chance  rather  than  any  human  will  guided  by  reason,  must 
have  led  to  such  an  arrangement.  And  if  we  consider  that  never- 
theless there  have  been  at  all  times  certain  officers  whose  duty 
it  was  to  see  that  private  buildings  contributed  to  public  orna- 
ment, the  difficulty  of  reaching  high  perfection  with  but  the 
materials  of  others  to  operate  on,  will  be  readily  acknowledged. 
In  the  same  way  I  fancied  that  those  nations  which,  starting 
from  a  semi-barbarous  state  and  advancing  to  civilisation  by 
slow  degrees,  have  had  their  laws  successively  determined,  and, 
as  it  were,  forced  upon  them  simply  by  experience  of  the  hurt- 

1  Literally,  in  a  room  heated  by  means  of  a  stove. 


DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  109 

fulness  of  particular  crimes  and  disputes,  would  by  this  process 
come  to  be  possessed  of  less  perfect  institutions  than  those  which, 
from  the  commencement  of  their  association  as  communities, 
have  followed  the  appointments  of  some  wise  legislator.  It  is 
jthus  quite  certain  that  the  constitution  of  the  true  religion,  the 
nrHjnn.nr.es  of  whjrh  arp  rWiVfr|  frnpi  QnrjJ  rrniHt  frp  incompar-^ 
ably  superior  to  that  of  every  other.  And,  to  speak  of  human 
affairs,  I  believe  that  the  past  preeminence  of  Sparta  was  due 
not  to  the  goodness  of  each  of  its  laws  in  particular,  for  many 
of  these  were  very  strange,  and  even  opposed  to  good  morals, 
but  to  the  circumstance  that,  originated  by  a  single  individual, 
they  all  tended  to  a  single  end.  In  the  same  way  I  thought 
that  Jthe  sciences  contained  in  books,  (such  of  them  at  least  as 
are  made  up  of  probable  reasonings,  without  demonstrations,) 
composed  as  they  are  of  the  opinions  of  many  different  individ- 
uals  massed  together,  are  farther  removed  from  truth  than  the 
simple  inferences  which  a  man  of  good  sen.<v*  u^ing  his  nat- 
ural  and  unprejudiced  judgment  draws  respecting  the  matters. 
oTlns  experience.  And  because  we  have  all  to  pass  through  a 
state  of  infancy  to  manhood,  and  have  been  of  necessity,  for  a 
length  of  time,  governed  by  our  desires  and  preceptors,  (whose 
dictates  were  frequently  conflicting,  while  neither  perhaps  al- 
ways counselled  us  for  the  best,)  I  farther  concluded  that  it  is 
almost  impossible  that  our  judgments  can  be  so  correct  or  solid 
as  they  would  have  been,  had  our  Reason  been  mature  from 
the  moment  of  our  birth,  and  had  we  always  been  guided  by  it 
alone. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  it  is  not  customary  to  pull  down  all 
the  houses  of  a  town  with  the  single  design  of  rebuilding  them 
differently,  and  thereby  rendering  the  streets  more  handsome; 
but  it  often  happens  that  a  private  individual  takes  down  his 
own  with  the  view  of  erecting  it  anew,  and  that  people  are  even 
sometimes  constrained  to  this  when  their  houses  are  in  danger 
of  falling  from  age,  or  when  the  foundations  are  insecure.  With 
this  before  me  by  way  of  example,  I  was  persuaded  that  it  would 
indeed  be  preposterous  for  a  private  individual  to  think  of 
reforming  a  state  by  fundamentally  changing  it  throughout, 


no  DESCARTES 

and  overturning  it  in  order  to  set  it  up  amended;  and  the  same 
I  thought  was  true  of  any  similar  project  for  reforming  the  body 
of  the  Sciences,  or  the  order  of  teaching  them  established  in  the 
Schools:  but  as  for  the  opinions  which  up  to  that  time  I  had 
embraced,  I  thought  that  I  could  not  do  better  thamresolve  at 
once  to  sweep  them  wholly  away,  that  I  might  afterwards  be  in 
a  position  to  admit  either  others  more  correct,  or  even  perhaps 
the  same  when  they  had  undergone  the  scrutiny  of  ReasonX^I 
firmly  believed  that  in  this  way  I  should  much  better  succeed 
in  the  conduct  of  my  life,  than  if  I \built  only  upon  old  founda- 
tions, and  leant  upon  principles  which,  in  my  youth,  I  had  taken 
upon  trustN^For  although  I  recognised  various  difficulties  in  this 
undertaking,  these  were  not,  however,  without  remedy,  nor  once 
to  be  compared  with  such  as  attend  the  slightest  reformation  in 
public  affairs.  Large  bodies,  if  once  overthrown,  are  with  great 
difficulty  set  up  again,  or  even  kept  erect  when  once  seriously 
shaken,  and  the  fall  of  such  is  always  disastrous.  Then  if  there 
are  any  imperfections  in  the  constitutions  of  states,  (and  that 
many  such  exist  the  diversity  of  constitutions  is  alone  sufficient 
to  assure  us,)  custom  has  without  doubt  materially  smoothed 
their  inconveniencies,  and  has  even  managed  to  steer  altogether 
clear  of,  or  insensibly  corrected  a  number  which  sagacity  could 
not  have  provided  against  with  equal  effect;  and,  in  fine,  the 
defects  are  almost  always  more  tolerable  than  the  change  neces- 
sary for  their  removal;  in  the  same  manner  that  highways  which 
wind  among  mountains,  by  being  much  frequented,  become 
gradually  so  smooth  and  commodious,  that  it  is  much  better  to 
follow  them  than  to  seek  a  straighter  path  by  climbing  over  the 
tops  of  rocks  and  descending  to  the  bottoms  of  precipices. 

Hence  it  is  that  I  cannot  in  any  degree  approve  of  those  rest- 
less and  busy  meddlers  who,  called  neither  by  birth  nor  fortune 
to  take  part  in  the  management  of  public  affairs,  are  yet  always 
projecting  reforms;  and  if  I  thought  that  this  Tract  contained 
aught  which  might  justify  the  suspicion  that  I  was  a  victim  of 
such  folly,  I  would  by  no  means  permit  its  publication.  I  have 
never  contemplated  anything  higher  than  the  reformation  of  my 
own  opinions,  and  basing  them  on  a  foundation  wholly  my  own. 


DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  in 

And  although  my  own  satisfaction  with  my  work  has  led  me  to 
present  here  a  draft  of  it,  I  do  not  by  any  means  therefore  recom- 
mend to  every  one  else  to  make  a  similar  attempt.  Those  whom 
God  has  endowed  with  a  larger  measure  of  genius  will  entertain, 
perhaps,  designs  still  more  exalted ;  but  for  the  many  I  am  much 
afraid  lest  even  the  present  undertaking  be  more  than  they  can 
safely  venture  to  imitate.  The  single  design  to  strip  one's  self 
of  all  past  beliefs  is  one  that  ought  not  to  be  taken  by  every  one. 
The  majority  of  men  is  composed  of  two  classes,  for  neitheFof 
which  would  this  be  at  all  a  befitting  resolution :  in  the  first  place, 
of  those  who  with  more  than  a  due  confidence  in  their  own 
powers,  are  precipitate  in  their  judgments  and  want  the  patience 
requisite  for  orderly  and  circumspect  thinking;  whence  it  hap- 
pens, that  if  men  of  this  class  once  take  the  liberty  to  doubt  of 
their  accustomed  opinions,  and  quit  the  beaten  highway,  they 
will  never  be  able  to  thread  the  byeway  that  would  lead  them  by 
a  shorter  course,  and  will  lose  themselves  and  continue  to  wander 
for  life ;  in  the  second  place,  of  those  who,  possessed  of  sufficient 
sense  or  modesty  to  determine  that  there  are  others  who  excel 
them  in  the  power  of  discriminating  between  truth  and  error, 
and  by  whom  they  may  be  instructed,  ought  rather  to  content 
themselves  with  the  opinions  of  such  than  trust  for  more  correct 
to  their  own  Reason. 

For  my  own  part,  I  should  doubtless  have  belonged  to  the 
latter  class,  had  I  received  instruction  from  but  one  master,  or 
had  I  never  known  the  diversities  of  opinion  that  from  time 
immemorial  have  prevailed  among  men  of  the  greatest  learning. 
But  I  had  become  aware,  even  so  early  as  during  my  college  life, 
that  no  opinion,  however  absurd  and  incredible,  can  be  imagined, 
which  has  not  been  maintained  by  some  one  of  the  philosophers; 
and  afterwards  in  the  course  of  my  travels  I  remarked  that  all 
those  whose  opinions  are  decidedly  repugnant  to  ours  are  not 
on  that  account  barbarians  and  savages,  but  on  the  contrary  that 
many  of  these  nations  make  an  equally  good,  if  not  a  better,  use' 
of  their  Reason  than  we  do.  I  took  into  account  also  the  very 
different  character  which  a  person  brought  up  from  infancy  in 
France  or  Germany  exhibits,  from  that  which,  with  the  same 


ii2  DESCARTES 

mind  originally,  this  individual  would  have  possessed  had  he 
lived  always  among  the  Chinese  or  with  savages,  and  the  cir- 
cumstance that  in  dress  itself  the  fashion  which  pleased  us  ten 
years  ago,  and  which  may  again,  perhaps,  be  received  into  favour 
before  ten  years  have  gone,  appears  to  us  at  this  moment  extrava- 
gant and  ridiculous.  I  was  thus  led  to  infer  that  the  grrmpd^nf^ 
our  opinions  is  far  more  custom  and  exam-pie  than  any  certain 
.knowledge.  And,  finally,  although  such  be  the  ground  of  our 
opinions,  I  remarked  that  a  plurality  of  suffrages  is  no  guarantee 
of  truth  where  it  is  at  all  of  difficult  discovery,  as  in  such  cases 
it  is  much  more  likely  that  it  will  be  found  by  one  than  by  many. 
I  could,  however,  select  from  the  crowd  no  one  whose  opinions 
seemed  worthy  of  preference,  and  thus  I  found  myself  con- 
strained, as  it  were,  to  nsp  rny  own  K^g""  i"  thp  rnnrl11rt  pf 

my  life. 

But  like  one  walking  alone  and  in  the  dark,  ^resolved  to  pro- 
^eed  so  slowly  and  with  such  circumspection,  that  if  I  did  not 
advance  far,  I  would  at  least  guard  against  falling.  I  did  not 
even  choose  to  dismiss  summarily  any  of  the  opinions  that  had 
crept  into  my  belief  without  having  been  introduced  by  Reason, 
but  first  of  all  took  sufficient  time  carefully  to  satisfy  myself  of 
the  general  nature  of  the  task  I  was  setting  myself,  and  ascertain 
the  true  Method  by  which  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  what- 
ever lay  within  the  compass  of  my  powers. 

Among  the  branches  of  Philosophy,  I  had,  at  an  earlier 
period,  given  some  attention  to  Logic,  and  among  those  of  the 
Mathematics  to  Geometrical  Analysis  and  Algebra,  —  three 
Arts  or  Sciences  which  ought,  as  I  conceived,  to  contribute 
something  to  my  design.  But,  on  examination,  I  found  that,  as 
forj  Logic,  its  syllogisms  and  the  majority  of  its  other  precepts 
are  of  avail  rather  in  the  communication  of  what  we  already 
know,  or  even  as  the  Art  of  Lully,  in  speaking  without  judgment 
of  things  of  which  we  are  ignorant,  than  in  the  investigation 
of  the  unknown^  and  although  this  Science  contains  indeed  a 
number  of  correct  and  very  excellent  precepts,  there  are,  never- 
theless, so  many  others,  and  these  either  injurious  or  superfluous, 
mingled  with  the  former,  that  it  is  almost  quite  as  difficult  to 


DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  113 

effect  a  severance  of  the  true  from  the  false  as  it  is  to  extract 
a  Diana  or  a  Minerva  from  a  rough  block  of  marble.  Then  as 
to  the^  Analysis  of  the  ancients  and  the  Algebra  of  the  moderns, 
besides  that  they  embrace  only  matters  highly  abstract,  and,  to 
appearance,  of  no  use,  the  former  is  so  exclusively  restricted  to 
the  consideration  of  figures,  that  it  can  exercise  the  Understand- 
ing only  on  condition  of  greatly  fatiguing  the  Imagination;  * 
and,  in  the  latter,  there  is  so  complete  a  subjection  to  certain 
rules  and  formulas,  that  there  results  an  art  full  of  confusion 
and  obscurity  calculated  to  embarrass,  instead  of  a  science  fitted 
to  cultivate  the  mind/  By  these  considerations  I  was  induced 
to  seek  some  other  Method  which  would  comprise  the  advan- 
tages of  the  three  ancTT>eexempt  from  their  defects.  And  as  a^ 
multitude  of  laws  often  only  hampers  justice,  so  that  a  state  is 
best  governed  when7  with  few  laws,  these  are  rigidlyadminis- 
tered;  ifTlike  manner,  instead  of  the  greai^number  of  precepts 
of  which  Logic  is  composed,  I  believed  that  the  four  following 
would  prove  perfectly  sufficient  for  me,  provided  I  took  the  firm 
and  unwavering  resolution  never  in  a  single  instance  to  fail  in 
observing  them. 

The  first  was  never  to  accept  anything  for  true  which  I  did 
not  clearly  know  to  frf  snrh ;  that  is  to  say,  carefully  to  avoid 
precipitancy  and  prejudice,  and  to  comprise  nothing  more  in 
my  judgment  than  what  was  presented  to  my  mind  so  clearly 
and  distinctly  as  to  exclude  all  ground  of  doubt. 

The  second,  to  divide  each  of  the  difficulties  under  examination 
into  as  many  parts  as  possible,  and  as  might  be  necessary  for  its 
^adequate  solution. 

The  third,  to  conduct  my  thoughts  in  such  order  that,  by 
commencing  with  objectslEe  simplest  and  easiestjx^  know,  1 
might  ascend  byTittle  ancTTittle,  and,  asit  were,  step  by  step^ 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  more  complex;  assigning  in  thought  a 
certain  order  even  to  those  objects  which  in  their  own  nature 
do  not  stand  in  a  relationTof  antecedence  and  sequence. 

And  the  last,  in  everv  case  to  make  enumerations  so  complete, 

1  The  imagination  mus<  e  be  taken  as  equivalent  simply  to  the  repre- 
sentative faculty. 


ii4  DESCARTES 

and  reviews  so  general,  that  I  might  be  assured  that  nothing 
jwasj)mitted. - 

The  long  chains  of  simple  and  easy  reasonings  by  means  of 
which  geometers  are  accustomed  to  reach  the  conclusions  of 
their  most  difficult  demonstrations,  had  led  me  to  imagine  that 
all  things,  to  the  knowledge  of  which  man  is  competent,  are 
mutually  connected  in  the  same  way,  and  that  there  is  nothing 
so  far  removed  from  us  as  to  be  beyond  our  reach,  or  so  hidden 
that  we  cannot  discover  it,  provided  only  we  abstain  from 
accepting  the  false  for  the  true,  and  always  preserve  in  our 
thoughts  the  order  necessary  for  the  deduction  of  one  truth  from 
another.  And  I  had  little  difficulty  in  determining  the  objects 
with  which  it  was  necessary  to  commence,  for  I  was  already  per- 
suaded that  it  must  be  with  the  simplest  and  easiest  to  know, 
and,  considering  that  of  all  those  who  have  hitherto  sought  truth 
in  the  sciences,  the  mathematicians  alone  have  been  able  to 
find  any  demonstrations,  that  is,  any  certain  and  evident  rea- 
sons, I  did  not  doubt  but  that  such  must  have  been  the  rule  of 
their  investigations.  I  resolved  to  commence,  therefore,  with  the 
examination  of  the  simplest  objects,  not  anticipating,  however, 
from  this  any  other  advantage  than  that  to  be  found  in  accus- 
toming my  mind  to  the  love  and  nourishment  of  truth,  and  to 
a  distaste  for  all  such  reasonings  as  were  unsound.  But  I  had 
no  intention  on  that  account  of  attempting  to  master  all  the 
particular  Sciences  commonly  denominated  Mathematics:  but 
observing  that,  however  different  their  objects,  they  all  agree  in 
considering  only  the  various  relations  or  proportions  subsisting 
among  those  objects,  I  thought  it  best  for  my  purpose  to  con- 
sider these  proportions  in  the  most  general  form  possible,  with- 
out referring  them  to  any  objects  in  particular,  except  such  as 
would  most  facilitate  the  knowledge  of  them,  and  without  by 
any  means  restricting  them  to  these,  that  afterwards  I  might 
thus  be  the  better  able  to  apply  them  to  every  other  class  of 
objects  to  which  they  are  legitimately  applicable.  Perceiving 
further,  that  in  order  to  understand  these  relations  I  should 
sometimes  have  to  consider  them  one  by  one,  and  sometimes 
only  to  bear  them  in  mind,  or  embrace  them  in  the  aggregate, 


DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  115 

I  thought  that,  in  order  the  better  to  consider  them  individually, 
I  should  view  them  as  subsisting  between  straight  lines,  than 
which  I  could  find  no  objects  more  simple,  or  capable  of  being 
more  distinctly  represented  to  my  imagination  and  senses;  and 
on  the  other  hand,  that  in  order  to  retain  them  in  the  memory, 
or  embrace  an  aggregate  of  many,  I  should  express  them  by 
certain  characters  the  briefest  possible.  In  this  way  I  believed 
that  I  could  borrow  all  that  was  best  both  in  Geometrical  An- 
alysis and  in  Algebra,  and  correct  all  the  defects  of  the  one 
by  help  of  the  other. 

And,  in  point  of  fact,  the  accurate  observance  of  these  few 
precepts  gave  me,  I  take  the  liberty  of  saying,  such  ease  in 
unravelling  all  the  questions  embraced  in  these  two  sciences, 
that  in  the  two  or  three  months  I  devoted  to  their  examination, 
not  only  did  I  reach  solutions  of  questions  I  had  formerly  deemed 
exceedingly  difficult,  but  even  as  regards  questions  of  the  solu- 
tion of  which  I  continued  ignorant,  I  was  enabled,  as  it  appeared 
to  me,  to  determine  the  means  whereby,  and  the  extent  to  which, 
a  solution  was  possible;  results  attributable  to  the  circumstance 
that  I  commenced  with  the  simplest  and  most  general  truths, 
and  that  thus  each  truth  discovered  was  a  rule  available  in  the 
discovery  of  subsequent  ones.  Nor  in  this  perhaps  shall  I  appear 
too  vain,  if  it  be  considered  that,  as  the  truth  on  any  particular 
point  is  one,  whoever  apprehends  the  truth,  knows  all  that  on 
that  point  can  be  known.  The  child,  for  example,  who  has  been 
instructed  in  the  elements  of  Arithmetic,  and  has  made  a  par- 
ticular addition,  according  to  rule,  may  be  assured  that  he  has 
found,  with  respect  to  the  sum  of  the  numbers  before  him,  all 
that  in  this  instance  is  within  the  reach  of  human  genius.  Now, 
in  conclusion,  the  Method  which  teaches  adherence  to  the  true 
order,  and  an  exact  enumeration  of  all  the  conditions  of  the 
thing  sought  includes  all  that  gives  certitude  to  the  rules  of 
Arithmetic. 

But  the  chief  ground  of  my  satisfaction  with  this  Method, 
was  the  assurance  I  had  of  thereby  exercising  my  reason  in  all 
matters,  if  not  with  absolute  perfection,  at  least  with  the  greatest 
attainable  by  me:  besides,  I  was  conscious  that  by  its  use  my 


ii6  DESCARTES 

mind  was  becoming  gradually  habituated  to  clearer  and  more 
distinct  conceptions  of  its  objects;  and  I  hoped  also,  from  not 
having  restricted  this  Method  to  any  particular  matter,  to  apply 
it  to  the  difficulties  of  the  other  Sciences,  with  not  less  success 
than  to  those  of  Algebra.  I  should  not,  however,  on  this  account 
have  ventured  at  once  on  the  examination  of  all  the  difficulties 
of  the  Sciences  which  presented  themselves  to  me,  for  this  would 
have  been  contrary  to  the  order  prescribed  in  the  Method,  but 
observing  that  the  knowledge  of  such  is  dependent  on  principles 
borrowed  from  Philosophy,  in  wrhich  I  found  nothing  certain, 
I  thought  it  necessary  first  of  all  to  endeavour  to  establish  its 
principles.  And  because  I  observed,  besides,  that  an  inquiry 
of  this  kind  was  of  all  others  of  the  greatest  moment,  and  one 
in  which  precipitancy  and  anticipation  in  judgment  were  most 
to  be  dreaded,  I  thought  that  I  ought  not  to  approach  it  till  I 
had  reached  a  more  mature  age,  (being  at  that  time  but  twenty- 
three),  and  had  first  of  all  employed  much  of  my  time  in  pre- 
paration for  the  work,  as  well  by  eradicating  from  my  mind  all 
the  erroneous  opinions  I  had  up  to  that  moment  accepted,  as  by 
amassing  variety  of  experience  to  afford  materials  for  my  rea- 
sonings, and  by  continually  exercising  myself  in  my  chosen 
Method  with  a  view  to  increased  skill  in  its  application. 


MEDITATIONS  117 

MEDITATIONS 

ON 
THE  FIRST  PHILOSOPHY 

Translated  from  the  Latin  *  and  collated  with  the  French  by 
JOHN  VEITCH 

MEDITATION  I 
OF   THE   THINGS  OF  WHICH   WE   MAY   DOUBT 

SEVERAL  years  have  now  elapsed  since  I  first  became  aware  that 
I  had  accepted,  even  from  my  youth,  many  false  opinions  for 
true,  and  that  consequently  what  I  afterwards  based  on  such 
principles  was  highly  doubtful;  and  from  that  time  I  was  con- 
vinced of  the  necessity  of  undertaking  once  in  my  life  to  rid 
myself  of  all  the  opinions  T  had  adopted,  and  of  commencing 
angwJbe  work. of  hnilding  frorcLlhe.  foundation,  if  I  desired  tc^ 
establish  a  firm  and  abiding  superstructure  in  the  sciences.  But 
as  this  enterprise  appeared  to  me  to  be  one  oi  great  magnitude, 
I  waited  until  I  had  attained  an  age  so  mature  as  to  leave  me 
no  hope  that  at  any  stage  of  life  more  advanced  I  should  be 
better  able  to  execute  my  design.  On  this  account,  I  have  delayed 
so  long  that  I  should  henceforth  consider  I  was  doing  wrong 
were  I  still  to  consume  in  deliberation  any  of  the  time  that  now 
remains  for  action.  To-day,  then,  since  I  have  opportunely 
freed  iQ^jniiidJrQSLalLcMe^  [and  am  happily  disturbed-bjLno 
passions],  and  since  I  am  in  the  secure  pnsspssinn  of  leisure  in 
a  peaceable  retirement,  I_will  at  length  apply  myself  earnestly 
jmd  freely  to  the  general  overthrow  of  all  my  former  opinions. 
But,  to  this  end,  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  me  to  show  that 
the  whole  of  these  are  false  —  a  point,  perhaps,  which  I  shall 
never  reach;  but  as  even  now  my  reason  convinces  me  that  I 

*  From  the  Meditationes  de  prima  philosophic,,  Paris,  1641.  Fr.  par  le  Due 
de  Luynes,  Paris,  1647.  (Corrected  by  Descartes.)  The  English  translation  was 
made  from  the  Latin  or  original  text,  but  has  also  the  additions  of  the  French 
version  here  given  in  brackets.  It  appeared  in  1853  and  reached  the  thirteenth 
edition  in  1902. 


n8  DESCARTES 

ought  not  the  less  carefully  to  withhold  belief  from  what  is  not 
entirely  certain  and  indubitable,  than  from  what  is  manifestly 
false,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  justify  the  rejection  of  the  whole  if 
I  shall  find  in  each  some  ground  for  doubt.  Nor  for  this  purpose 
will  it  be  necessary  even  to  deal  with  each  belief  individually, 
which  would  be  truly  an  endless  labour;  but,  as  the  removal 
from  below  of  the  foundation  necessarily  involves  the  downfall 
of  the  whole  edifice,  I  will  at  once  approach  the  criticism  of  the 
principles  on  which  all  my  former  beliefs  rested. 

All  that  I  have,  up  to  this  moment,  accepted  as  possessed  of 
the  highest  truth  and  certainty,  I  received  either  from  or  through 
the  senses^  I  observed,  however,  that  these  sometimes  misled 
us^  and  it  is  the  part  of  prudencejiot  to  place  absolute  confidence 
in  that  by  which  we  have  even  once  beenjieceiyed. 

But  it  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that,  although  the  senses  occa- 
sionally  mislead  usjrespecting  minute  objects,  and  such  as  are 
so  far  removed  from  us  as  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  close  obser- 
vation, there  are  yet  many  other_flf  thpir  infprrnptions  (presenta- 
tions), pfjhelruth  of  whichit  is  manifestly  impossible  to  doubt ; 
as  for  example,  that  I  am  in  this  place,  seated  by  the  fire,  clothed 
in  a  winter  dressing-gown,  that  I  hold  in  my  hands  this  piece 
of  paper,  with  other  intimations  of  the  same  nature.  But  how 
could  I  deny  that  I  possess  these  hands  and  this  body,  and 
withal  escape  being  classed  with  persons  in  a  state  of  insanity, 
whose  brains  are  so  disordered  and  clouded  by  dark  bilious 
vapours  as  to  cause  them  pertinaciously  to  assert  that  they  are 
monarchs  when  they  are  in  the  greatest  poverty ;  or  clothed  in 
[gold  and]  purple  when  destitute  of  any  covering ;  or  that  their 
head  is  made  of  clay,  their  body  of  glass,  or  that  they  are  gourds  ? 
I  should  certainly  be  not  less  insane  than  they,  were  I  to  regulate 
my  procedure  according  to  examples  so  extravagant. 

Though  this  be  true,  I  must  nevertheless  here  consider  that 
I  am  a  man,  and  that,  consequently,  I  am  in  the  habit  of  sleeping, 
and  representing  to  myself  in  dreams  those  same  things,  or  even 
sometimes  others  less  probable,  which  the  insane  think  are  pre- 
sented to  them  in  their  waking  moments.  How  often  have  I 
dreamt  that  I  was  in  these  familiar  circumstances,  —  that  I  was 


MEDITATIONS  119 

dressed,  and  occupied  this  place  by  the  fire,  when  I  was  lying 
undressed  in  bed  ?  At  the  present  moment,  however,  I  certainly 
look  upon  this  paper  with  eyes  wide  awake;  the  head  which  I 
now  move  is  not  asleep;  I  extend  this  hand  consciously  and  with 
express  purpose,  and  I  perceive  it;  the  occurrences  in  sleep  are 
not  so  distinct  as  all  this.  But  I  cannot  forget  that,  at  other  times, 
I  have  been  deceived  in  sleep  by  similar  illusions;  and,  atten- 
tively considering  those  cases,  I  perceive  so  clearly  that  there 
exist  no  certain  marks  by  which  the  state  of  waking  can  ever  be 
distinguished  from  sleep,  that  I  feel  greatly  astonished;  and  in 
amazement  I  almost  persuade  myself  that  I  am  now  dreaming. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  we  are  dreaming,  and  that  all  these 
particulars  —  namely,  the  opening  of  the  eyes,  the  motion  of 
the  head,  the  forth-putting  of  the  hands  —  are  merely  illusions; 
and  even  that  we  really  possess  neither  an  entire  body  nor  hands 
such  as  we  see.  Nevertheless,  it  must  be  admitted  at  least  that 
the  objects  which  appear  to  us  in  sleep  are,  as  it  were,  painted 
representations  which  could  not  have  been  formed  unless  in  the 
likeness  of  realities;  and,  therefore,  that  those  general  objects, 
at  all  events,  —  namely,  eyes,  a  head,  hands,  and  an  entire 
body  —  are  not  simply  imaginary,  but  really  existent.  For,  in 
truth,  painters  themselves,  even  when  they  study  to  represent 
sirens  and  satyrs  by  forms  the  most  fantastic  and  extraordinary, 
cannot  bestow  upon  them  natures  absolutely  new,  but  can  only 
make  a  certain  medley  of  the  members  of  different  animals;  or 
if  they  chance  to  imagine  something  so  novel  that  nothing  at  all 
similar  has  ever  been  seen  before,  and  such  as  is,  therefore,  purely 
fictitious  and  absolutely  false,  it  is  at  least  certain  that  the 
colours  of  which  this  is  composed  are  real. 

And^on  the  same  prinrjplp  flUVirmgfr  fhnr>n  gnnnrn1 
viz.  [a  body],  eyes,  a  head,  hands,  and  the  like, 
we  are  nevertheless  absolutely  necessitated  to  admit  the  reality 
at  least  of  some~other  objects  still  more  simple  and  universal  than 
these,  of  which,  just  as  of  certain  rffl]  fnlnnrs,  all 


ofjhingSjjwhether  true  and  real,  or  false  and  fantastic,  that  are 
found  in  our  consciousness 

us  cFassof  objects  seem  to  belong  corporeal  nature  in 


120  DESCARTES 

general  andJts  ^extension;  the  figure  of  extended  things,  their 
quantity  or  magnitude,  and  their  number,  as  also  the  place  in, 
and  the  time  during,  which  they  exist,  and  other  things  of  the 
same  sort.  We  will  not,  therefore,  perhaps  reason  illegitimately 
if  we  conclude  from  this  that  Physics,  Astronomy,  Medicine,  and 
all  the  other  sciences  that  have  for  their  end  the  consideration 
of  composite  objects,  are  indeed  of  a  doubtful  character;  but  that 
Arithmetic,  Geometry,  and  the  other  sciences  of  the  same  class, 
which  regard  merely  the  simplest  and  most  general  objects, 
and  scarcely  inquire  whether  or  not  these  are  really  existent, 
contain  somewhat  that  is  certain  and  indubitable:  for  whether 
I  am  awake  or  dreaming,  it  remains  true  that  two  and  three 
make  five,  and  that  a  square  has  but  four  sides;  nor  does  it  seem 
possible  that  truths  so  apparent  can  ever  fall  under  a  suspicion 
of  falsity  [or  incertitude]. 

Nevertheless,  the  belief  that  there  is  a  God  who  is  all-powerful, 
and  who  created  meTsucTTas  I  am,  has,  tor  a  long  time,  obtained 
steady  possession  of  my  mind.  How,  then,  do  I  know  that  he 
has  not  arranged  that  there  should  be  neither  earth,  nor  sky, 
nor  any  extended  thing,  nor  figure,  nor  magnitude,  nor  place, 
providing  at  the  same  time,  however,  for  [the  rise  in  me  of  the 
perceptions  of  all  these  objects,  and]  the  persuasion  that  these 
do  not  exist  otherwise  than  as  I  perceive  them  ?  And  further,  as 
I  sometimes  think  that  others  are  in  error  respecting  matters  of 
which  they  believe  themselves  to  possess  a  perfect  knowledge, 
how  do  I  know  that  I  am  not  also  deceived  each  time  I  add 
together  two  and  three,  or  number  the  sides  of  a  square,  or  form 
some  judgment  still  more  simple,  if  more  simple  indeed  can  be 
imagined?  But  perhaps  Deity  has  not  been  willing  that  I  should 
be  thus  deceived,  for  He  is  said  to  be  supremely  good.  If,  how- 
ever, it  were  repugnant  to  the  goodness  of  Deity  to  have  created 
me  subject  to  constant  deception,  it  would  seem  likewise  to  be 
contrary  to  his  goodness  to  allow  me  to  be  occasionally  deceived ; 
and  yet  it  is  clear  that  this  is  permitted.  Some,  indeed,  might 
perhaps  be  found  who  would  be  disposed  rather  to  deny  the 
existence  of  a  Being  so  powerful  than  to  believe  that  there  is  no- 
thing certain.  But  let  us  for  the  present  refrain  from  opposing 


MEDITATIONS  121 

this  opinion,  andjgant  that  all  which  is  here  said  of  a  Deity  is 
fabulous  :  nevertheless,  in  whatever  way  it  be  supposed  that  I 
reached  the  state  in  which  I  exist,  whether  by  fate,  or  chance,  or 
by  an  endless  series  of  antecedents  and  consequents,  or  by  any 
other  means,  it  Is  clear  (since  to  be  deceived  and  to  err  is  a  cer- 
tain defect)  that  the  probability  of  my  being  so  imperfect  as  to 
be  the  constant  victim  of  deception,  will  be  increased  exactly  in 
proportion  as  the  power  possessed  by  the  cause,  to  which  they 
assign  my  origin,  is  lessened.  To  these  reasonings  I  have  assur- 
edly nothing  to  reply,  but  am  constrained  at  last  to  avow  that 

J-flfTP  Jg  "raking  nf  flU  that  T  fnrmprly  ]^1i'nVnr|  f"  T™  trif  "f  wlll'f  fr- 

it is  impossible  to  doubt,  and  that  not  through  thoughtlessness  or 
levity,  but  from  cogent  and  maturely  considered  reasons;  so  that 
henceforward,  if  I  desire  to  discover  anything  certain,  I  ought_ 
not  the  less  carefully  to  refrain  from  assenting  to  those  same 
opinions  than  to  what  might  be  shown  to  be  manifestly  false. 
But  it  is  not  sufficient  to  have  made  these  observations;  care 
must  be  taken  likewise  to  keep  them  in  remembrance.  For 

mstnmflry  opinion  g  .  pprpptn  ally  rpr^r  —  long  and 


familiar  usage  giving  them  the  right  of  occupying  my  mind, 
even  almost  against  my  will,  and  subduing  my  belief;  nor  will 
I  lose  the  habit  of  deferring  to  them  and  confiding  in  them  so 
long  as  I  shall  consider  them  to  be  what  in  truth  they  are,  viz., 
opinions  to  some  extent  doubtful,  as  I  have  already  shown,  but 
still  highly  probable,  and  such  as  it  is  much  more  reasonable 
to  believe  than  deny.  It  is  for  this  reason  I  am  persuaded  that 
I  shall  not  be  doing  wrong,  if,  taking  an  opposite  judgment  of 
deliberate  design,  I  become  my  own  deceiver,  by  supposing,  for 
a  time,  that  all  those  opinions  are  entirely  false  and  imaginary, 
until  at  length,  having  thus  balanced  my  old  by  my  new  preju- 
dices, my  judgment  shalTno  longer  be  turned  aside  by  perverted 
usage  from  the  path  that  may  conduct  to  the  perception  of  truth. 
For  I  am  assured  that,  meanwhile,  there  will  arise  neither  peril 
nor  error  from  this  course,  and  that  I  cannot  for  the  present 
yield  too  much  to  distrust,  since  the  end  I  now  seek  is  not  action. 
but  knowledge. 
I  will  suppose,  then,  not  that  Deity,  who  is  sovereignly  good 


122  DESCARTES 

and  the  fountain  of  truth,  but  that  some  malignant  demon, 
who  is  at  once  exceedingly  potent  and  deceitful,  has  emplovpH 
all  his  artifice  to  deceive  me ;  Ijvill  suppose  that  the  sky,  the  air, 
the  earth,  colours,  figures,  sounds,  and  all  external  things,  are 
nothing  better  than  the  illusions  of  dreams,  by  means  of  which 
this  being  has  laid  snares  for  my  credulity;  I  will  consider  my- 
self as  without  hands,  eyes,  flesh,  blood,  or  any  of  the  senses, 
and  as  falsely  believing  that  I  am  possessed  of  these;  I  will  con- 
tinue resolutely  fixed  in  this  belief,  and  if  indeed  by  this  means 
it  be  not  in  my  power  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  truth,  I  shall 
at  least  do  what  is  in  my  power,  viz.,  [suspend  my  judgment], 
and  guard  with  settled  purpose  against  giving  my  assent  to  what 
is  false,  and  being  imposed  upon  by  this  deceiver,  whatever  be 
his  power  and  artifice. 

But  this  undertaking  is  arduous,  and  a  certain  indolence 
insensibly  leads  me  back  to  my  ordinary  course  of  life;  and  just 
as  the  captive,  who,  perchance,  was  enjoying  in  his  dreams 
an  imaginary  liberty,  when  he  begins  to  suspect  that  it  is  but 
a  vision,  dreads  awakening,  and  conspires  with  the  agreeable 
illusions  that  the  deception  may  be  prolonged;  so  I,  of  my  own 
accord,  fall  back  into  the  train  of  my  former  beliefs,  and  fear  to 
arouse  myself  from  my  slumber,  lest  the  time  of  laborious  wake- 
fulness  that  would  succeed  this  quiet  rest,  in  place  of  bringing 
any  light  of  day,  should  prove  inadequate  to  dispel  the  darkness 
that  will  arise  from  the  difficulties  that  have  now  been  raised. 


MEDITATION  II 

OF  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  HUMAN  MIND;  AND 

THAT  IT  IS  MORE  EASILY  KNOWN 

THAN  THE  BODY 

The  Meditation  of  yesterday  has  filled  my  mind  ^  so  many 

doubts,  that  it  is  no  longer  in  my  power  to  forget  n.   Nor 

do  I  see,  meanwhile,  any  principle  on  which  they  can  ^solved ; 

and,  just  as  if  I  had  fallen  all  of  a  sudden  into  very  >  water, 

I  am  so  greatly  disconcerted  as  to  be  unable  either  ant  my 


MEDITATIONS  123 

feet  firmly  on  the  bottom  or  sustain  myself  by  swimming  on  the 
surface.  I  will,  nevertheless,  make  an  effort,  and  try  anew  the 
same  path  on  which  I  had  entered  yesterday,  that  is,  proceed 
by  casting  aside  all  that  admits  of  the  slightest  doubt,  not  less 
than  if  I  had  discovered  it  to  be  absolutely  false;  and  I  will 
continue  always  in  this  track  until  I  shall  find  something  that  is 
certain,  or  at  least,  if  I  can  do  nothing  more,  until  I  shall  know 
with  certainty  that  there  is  nothing  certain.  Archimedes,  that  he 
might  transport  the  entire  globe  from  the  place  it  occupied  to 
another,  demanded  only  a  point  that  was  firm  and  immoveable; 
so  also,  I  shall  be  entitled  to  entertain  the  highest  expectations, 
if  I  am  fortunate  enough  to  discover  only  one  thing  that  is  certain 
and  indubitable.  ~ 

I  suppose,  accordingly,  that  all  the  things  which  I  see  are 
false  (fictitious) ;  I  believe  that  none  of  those  objects  which  my 
fallacious  memory  represents  ever  existed;  I  suppose  that  I 
possess  no  senses;  I  believe  that  body,  figure,  extension,  motion, 
and  place  are  merely  fictions  of  my  mind.  What  is  there,  then, 
that  can  be  esteemed  true  ?  Perhaps  this  only,  that  there  is  Ab- 
solutely nothing  certain.  _ 

But  how  do  I  know  that  there  is  not  something  different  alto- 
gether from  the  objects  I  have  now  enumerated,  of  which  it  is 
impossible  to  entertain  the  slightest  doubt  ?  Is  there  not  a  God, 
or  some  being,  by  whatever  name  I  may  designate  him,  who 
causes  these  thoughts  to  arise  in  my  mind?  But  why  suppose 
such  a  being,  for  it  may  be  I  myself  am  capable  of  producing 
them?  Am  I,  then,  at  least  not  something?  But  I  before  denied 
that  I  possessed  senses  or  a  body;  I  hesitate,  however,  for  what 
follows  from  that?  Am  I  so  dependent  on  the  body  and  the 
senses  that  without  these  I  cannot  exist?  But  I  had  the  per- 
suasion that  there  was  absolutely  nothing  in  the  world,  that  there 
was  no  sky  and  no  earth,  neither  minds  nor  bodies;  was  I  not, 
therefore,  at  the  same  time,  persuaded  that  I  did  not  exist  ?  Far 
from  it;  I  assuredly__existed.  since  I_was_persuaded.  But  there  is 
I  kn6w™iibTwhat  being,  who  is  possessed  at  once  of  the  high- 
est power  and  the  deepest  cunning,  who  is  constantly  employing 
all  his  ingenuity  Jnjlecejying  me.  Doubtless,  thenT  I  exist,  since 


124  DESCARTES 

]_am  deceived;  and,  let  him  deceive  me  as  he  may,  he  can  never 
bring  it  about  that  I  am  nothing,  so  long  as  I  shall  be  conscious 
that  I  am  something.  So  that  it  must,  in  fine,  be  maintained,  all 
things  being  maturely  and  rarpftilty  rpnsiffcrpH,  that  this  propo- 
sition (pronunciatum)  I  am,  I  exisl^Js-Qecessarily  tr"p  ea^h  t1>rnp 
it  jg_£5r«gsspH  ty  rjp,  or  rnnreived  in  my_mind. 

But  I  do  not  yet  know  with  sufficient  clearness  wjiaLl  am. 
though  assured  that  I  am;  and  hence,  in  the  next  place,  I  must 
take  care,  lest  perchance  I  inconsiderately  substitute  some  other 
object  in  room  of  what  is  properly  myself,  and  thus  wander  from 
truth,  even  in  that  knowledge  (cognition)  which  I  hold  to  be 
of  all  others  the  most  certain  and  evident.  For  this  reason,  I 
will  now  consider  anew  what  I  formerly  believed  myself  to  be, 
before  I  entered  on  the  present  train  of  thought;  and  of  my  pre- 
vious opinion  I  will  retrench  all  that  can  in  the  least  be  invali- 
dated by  the  grounds  of  doubt  I  have  adduced,  in  order  that 
there  may  at  length  remain  nothing  but  what  is  certain  and 
indubitable.  What  then  did  I  formerly  think  I  was?  Undoubt- 
edly I  judged  that  I  was  a  man.  But  what  is  a  man?  Shall  I 
say  a  rational  animal?  Assuredly  not;  for  it  would  be  necessary 
forthwith  to  inquire  into  what  is  meant  by  animal,  and  what  by 
rational,  and  thus,  from  a  single  question,  I  should  insensibly 
glide  into  others,  and  these  more  difficult  than  the  first;  nor  do 
I  now  possess  enough  of  leisure  to  warrant  me  in  wasting  my 
time  amid  subtleties  of  this  sort.  I  prefer  here  to  attend  to  the 
thoughts  that  sprung  up  of  themselves  in  my  mind,  and  were 
inspired  by  my  own  nature  alone,  when  I  applied  myself  to  the 
consideration  of  what  I  was.  In  the  first  place,  then,  I  thought 
that  I  possessed  a  countenance,  hands,  arms,  and  all  the  fabric 
(of  members  that  appears  in  a  corpse,  and  which  I  called  by  the 
name  of  body.  It  further  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  nourished, 
that  I  walked,  perceived,  and  thought,  and  all  those  actions  I 
referred  to  the  soul;  but  what  the  soul  itself  was  I  either  did 
not  stay  to  consider,  or,  if  I  did,  I  imagined  that  it  was  something 
extremely  rare  and  subtile,  like  wind,  or  flame,  or  ether,  spread 
through  my  grosser  parts.  As  regarded  the  body,  I  did  not  even 
doubt  of  its  nature,  but  thought  I  distinctly  knew  it,  and  if  I  had 


MEDITATIONS  125 


wished  to  describe  it  according  to  the  notions  I  then  entertained, 
I  should  have  explained  myself  in  this  manner :  By  body  I  under 
stand  all  that  can  be  terminated  by  a  certain  figure;  that  can 
be  comprised  in  a  certain  place,  and  so  fill  a  certain  space  as 
therefrom  to  exclude  every  other  body;  that  can  be  perceivec 
either  by  touch,  sight,  hearing,  taste,  or  smell;  that  can  be  moved 
in  different  ways,  not  indeed  of  itself,  but  by  something  foreigr? 
to  it  by  which  it  is  touched  [and  from  which  it  receives  the  impres- 
sion]; for  the  power  of  self-motion,  as  likewise  that  of  perceiving 
and  thinking,  I  held  as  by  no  means  pertaining  to  the  nature  of 
body;  on  the  contrary,  I  was  somewhat  astonished  to  find  such 
faculties  existing  in  some  bodies. 

But  [as  to  myself,  what  can  I  now  say  that  I  am],  since  I  sup- 
pose there  exists  an  extremely  powerful,  and,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
malignant  being,  whose  whole  endeavours  are  directed  towards 
deceiving  me  ?  Can  I  affirm  that  I  possess  any  one  of  all  those 
attributes  of  which  I  have  lately  spoken  as  belonging  to  the 
nature  of  body  ?  After  attentively  considering  them  in  my  own 
mind,  I  find  none  of  them  that  can  properly  be  said  to  belong 
to  myself.  To  recount  them  were  idle  and  tedious.  Let  us  pass, 
then,  to  the  attributes  of  the  soul.  The  first  mentioned  were  the 
powers  of  nutrition  and  walking;  but,  if  it  be  true  that  I  have 
no  body,  it  is  true  likewise  that  I  am  capable  neither  of  walking 
nor  of  being  nourished.  Perception  is  another  attribute  of  the 
soul ;  but  perception  too  is  impossible  without  the  body :  besides, 
I  have  frequently,  during  sleep,  believed  that  I  perceived  objects 
which  I  afterwards  observed  I  did  not  in  reality  perceive.  Thiiik- 
ing.is,-an.other_attribute-of- -the .-soul;  and  here  I  discover,  what 
properly  belongs  to-rnyself.  This  alone  is  inseparable  from  me. 
I  am  — I  exist:  this  is  certain;  but  how  often?  As  often  as  I 
think;  for  perhaps  it  would  even  happen,  if  I  should  wholly  cease 
to  think,  that  I  should  at  the  same  time  altogether  cease  to  be. 
I  now  admit  nothing  that  is  not  necessarily  true:  I  am  therefore, 
precisely  speaking,  only  a  thinking  thing,  that  is,  a  mind  (mens 
sive  animus)^  understanding,  or  reason,  —  terms  whose  signifi- 
cation was  before  unknown  to  me.  I  am,  howeYer,_aj£aLthing, 
and  really  emtentf4)uLwha.t  thing.?  The  answer  was,  a  thinking 


i26  DESCARTES 

thing.  The  question  now  arises,  am  I  aught  besides?  I  will 
stimulate  my  imagination  with  a  view  to  discover  whether  I  am 
not  still  something  more  than  a  thinking  being.  Now  it  is  plain 
I  am  not  the  assemblage  of  members  called  the  human  body; 
I  am  not  a  thin  and  penetrating  air  diffused  through  all  these 
members,  or  wind,  or  flame,  or  vapour,  or  breath,  or  any  of  all 
the  things  I  can  imagine ;  for  I  supposed  that  all  these  were  not, 
and,  without  changing  the  supposition,  I  find  that  I  still  feel 
assured  of  my  existence. 

But  it  is  true,  perhaps,  that  those  very  things  which  I  suppose 
to  be  non-existent,  because  they  are  unknown  to  me,  are  not 
in  truth  different  from  myself  whom  I  know.  This  is  a  point  I 
cannot  determine,  and  do  not  now  enter  into  any  dispute  regard- 
ing it.  Lean  only  judge,  of  things  that  arp  knr>wrLtn  me:  I  am 

conscious  that  I  exist,  and  I  who  know  that  I  exist  inquire  into 
what  I  am.  It  is,  however,  perfectly  certain  that  the  know- 
ledge of  my  existence,  thus  precisely  taken,  is  nojLdeppqdent 
onlhings,  the  existence  of  which  is  as  yet  unknown  to  me :  and 
consequently  it  is  not  dependent  on  any  of  the  things  I  can  feign 
in  imagination.  Moreover,  the  phrase  itself,  I  frame  an  image 
(effingo),  reminds  me  of  my  error;  for  I  should  in  truth  frame 
one  if  I  were  to  imagine  myself  to  be  anything,  since  to  imagine 
is  nothing  more  than  to  contemplate  the  figure  or  image  of  a 
corporeal  thing;  but  I  already  know  that  I  exist,  and  that  it  is 
possible  at  the  same  time  that  all  those  images,  and  in  general 
all  that  relates  to  the  nature  of  body,  are  merely  dreams  [or 
chimeras].  From  this  I  discover  that  it  is  not  more  reasonable 
to  say,  I  will  excite  my  imagination  that  I  may  know  more  dis- 
tinctly what  I  am,  than  to  express  myself  as  follows:  I  am  now 
awake,  and  perceive  something  real;  but  because  my  perception 
is  not  sufficiently  clear,  I  will  of  express  purpose  go  to  sleep  that 
my  dreams  may  represent  to  me  the  object  of  my  perception 
with  more  truth  and  clearness.  And,  therefore,  I  know  that 
nothing  of  all  that  I  can  embrace  in  imagination  belongs  to  the 
knowledge  which  I  have  of  myself,  and  that  there  is  need  to 
recall  with  the  utmost  care  the  mind  from  this  mode  of  thinking, 
that  it  may  be  able  to  know  its  own  nature  with  perfect  dis- 
tinctness. 


MEDITATIONS  127 

But  what,  then,  am  I?  A  thinking  thing,  it  has  been  said 
But  what  is  a  thinking  thing?  It  is  a  thing  that  doubts,  under- 
stands, [conceives],  affirms,  denies,  wills,  refuses,  that  imagines 
also,  and  perceives.  Assuredly  it  is  not  little,  if  all  these  pro- 
perties belong  to  my  nature.  But  why  should  they  not  belong 
to  it?  Am  I  not  that  very  being  who  now  doubts  of  almost 
everything;  who,  for  all  that,  understands  and  conceives  certain 
things;  who  affirms  one  alone  as  true,  and  denies  the  others;  who 
desires  to  know  more  of  them,  and  does  not  wish  to  be  deceived ; 
who  imagines  many  things,  sometimes  even  despite  his  will; 
and  is  likewise  percipient  of  many,  as  if  through  the  medium  of 
the  senses.  Is  there  nothing  of  all  this  as  true  as  that  I  am, 
even  although  I  should  be  always  dreaming,  and  although  he 
who  gave  me  being  employed  all  his  ingenuity  to  deceive  me? 
Is  there  also  any  one  of  these  attributes  that  can  be  properly 
distinguished  from  my  thought,  or  that  can  be  said  to  be  separate 
from  myself  ?  For  it  is  of  itself  so  evident  that  it  is  I  who  doubt, 
I  who  understand,  and  I  who  desire,  that  it  is  here  unnecessary 
to  add  anything  by  way  of  rendering  it  more  clear.  And  I  am 
as  certainly  the  same  being  who  imagines;  for,  although  it  may 
be  (as  I  before  supposed)  that  nothing  I  imagine  is  true,  still  the 
power  of  imagination  does  not  cease  really  to  exist  in  me  and  to 
form  part  of  my  thought.  In  fing^AmJ^same.  beingjadiQ,  per- 
ceives, thaUs,  whQ._apprehends ^certain obje£ts_asJDyih£ organs  of 
sen£e^since^.in_  truth,  I  see  light,  hear  a  noise,  and  feel  heat.  But 
it  will  be  said  that  these  presentations  are  false,  and  that  I  am 
dreaming.  Let  it  be  so.  At  all  events  it  is  certain  that  I  seem  to 
see  light,  hear  a  noise,  and  feel  heat;  this  cannot  be  false,  anc 
this  is  what  in  me  is  properly  called  perceiving  (sentire),  which  is 
nothing  else  than  thinking.  From  this  I  begin  to  know  what  ] 
am  with  somewhat  greater  clearness  and  distinctness  than  here- 
tofore. 

But,  nevertheless,  it  still  seems  to  me,  and  I  cannot  help 
believing,  that  corporeal  things,  whose  images  are  formed  by 
thought,  [which  fall  under  the  senses],  and  are  examined  by  the 
same,  are  known  with  much  greater  distinctness  than  that  I 
know  not  what  part  of  myself  which  is  not  imaginable;  although. 


I28  DESCARTES 

in  truth,  it  may  seem  strange  to  say  that  I  know  and  comprehend 
with  greater  distinctness  things  whose  existence  appears  to  me 
doubtful,  that  are  unknown,  and  do  not  belong  to  me,  than  others 
of  whose  reality  I  am  persuaded,  that  are  known  to  me,  and  ap- 
pertain to  my  proper  nature;  in  a  word,  than  myself.  But  I  see 
clearly  what  is  the  state  of  the  case.  My  mind  is  apt  to  wander, 
and  will  not  yet  submit  to  be  restrained  within  the  limits  of  truth. 
Let  us  therefore  leave  the  mind  to  itself  once  more,  and,  according 
to  it  every  kind  of  liberty,  [permit  it  to  consider  the  objects  that 
appear  to  it  from  without],  in  order  that,  having  afterwards 
withdrawn  it  from  these  gently  and  opportunely,  [and  fixed  it 
on  the  consideration  of  its  being  and  the  properties  it  finds  in 
itself],  it  may  then  be  the  more  easily  controlled. 

Let  us  now  accordingly  consider  the  objects  that  are  com- 
monly thought  to  be  [the  most  easily,  and  likewise]  the  most  dis- 
tinctly known,  viz.,  the  bodies  we  touch  and  see;  not,  indeed, 
bodies  in  general,  for  these  general  notions  are  usually  somewhat 
more  confused,  but  one  body  in  particular.  Take,  for  example, 
this  piece  of  wax;  it  is  quite  fresh,  having  been  but  recently 
taken  from  the  beehive;  it  has  not  yet  lost  the  sweetness  of  the 
honey  it  contained;  it  still  retains  somewhat  of  the  odour  of  the 
flowers  from  which  it  was  gathered;  its  colour,  figure,  size,  are 
apparent  (to  the  sight);  it  is  hard,  cold,  easily  handled;  and 
sounds  when  struck  upon  with  the  finger.  In  fine,  all  that  con- 
tributes to  make  a  body  as  distinctly  known  as  possible,  is  found 
in  the  one  before  us.  But,  while  I  am  speaking,  let  it  be  placed 
near  the  fire  —  what  remained  of  the  taste  exhales,  the  smell 
evaporates,  the  colour  changes,  its  figure  is  destroyed,  its  size  in- 
creases, it  becomes  liquid,  it  grows  hot,  it  can  hardly  be  handled, 
and,  although  struck  upon,  it  emits  no  sound.  Does  the  same 
wax  still  remain  after  this  change?  It  must  be  admitted  that 
it  does  remain;  no  one  doubts  it,  or  judges  otherwise.  What, 
then,  was  it  I  knew  with  so  much  distinctness  in  the  piece  of 
wax?  Assuredly,  it  could  be  nothing  of  all  that  I  observed  by 
means  of  the  senses,  since  all  the  things  that  fell  under  taste, 
smell,  sight,  touch,  and  hearing  are  changed,  and  yet  the  same 
wax  remains.  It  was  perhaps  what  I  now  think,  viz.,  that  this  wr,x 


MEDITATIONS  129 

was  neither  the  sweetness  of  honey,  the  pleasant  odour  of  flowers, 
the  whiteness,  the  figure,  nor  the  sound,  but  only  a  body  that 
a  little  before  appeared  to  me  conspicuous  under  these  forms, 
and  which  is  now  perceived  under  others.  But,  to  speak  pre- 
cisely, what  is  it  that  I  imagine  when  I  think  of  it  in  this  way  ? 
Let  it  be  attentively  considered,  and,  retrenching  all  that  does 
not  belong  to  the  wax,  let  us  see  what  remains.  There  cer- 
tainly remains  nothing,  except  something  extended,  flexible,  and 
moveable.  But  what  is  meant  by  flexible  and  moveable  ?  Is  it  not 
that  I  imagine  that  the  piece  of  wax,  being  round,  is  capable  of 
becoming  square,  or  of  passing  from  a  square  into  a  triangular 
figure  ?  Assuredly  such  is  not  the  case,  because  I  conceive  that 
it  admits  of  an  infinity  of  similar  changes ;  and  I  am,  moreover, 
unable  to  compass  this  infinity  by  imagination,  and  consequently 
this  conception  which  I  have  of  the  wax  is  not  the  product  of 
the  faculty  of  imagination.  But  what  now  is  this  extension  ?  Is 
it  not  also  unknown  ?  for  it  becomes  greater  when  the  wax  is 
melted,  greater  when  it  is  boiled,  and  greater  still  when  the  heat 
increases;  and  I  should  not  conceive  [clearly  and]  according  to 
truth,  the  wax  as  it  is,  if  I  did  not  suppose  that  the  piece  we  are 
considering  admitted  even  of  a  wider  variety  of  extension  than 
I  ever  imagined.  I  must,  therefore,  admit  that  I  cannot  even 
comprehend  by  imagination  what  the  piece  of  wrax  is,  and  that 
it  is  the  mind  alone  (mens,  Lat.,  entendement,  F.)  which  per- 
ceives it.  I  speak  of  one  piece  in  particular;  for,  as  to  wax  in 
general,  this  is  still  more  evident.  But  what  is  the  piece  of  wax 
that  can  be  perceived  only  by  the  [understanding  or]  mind  ?  It  is 
certainly  the  same  which  I  see,  touch,  imagine ;  and,  in  fine,  it  is 
the  same  which,  from  the  beginning,  I  believed  it  to  be.  But 
(and  this  it  is  of  moment  to  observe)  the  perception,  of  .it  is 
neither  an  act  of  sight,  of  touch,  nor  of  magination,  and  never 
was  either  of  these,  though  it  might  formerly  seem  so,  but  is 
simply  an  intuition,  (ins pectio]  of  the  mind,  which  may  be  imper- 
fect and  confused,  as  it  formerly  was,  or  very  clear  and  distinct, 
as  it  is  at  present,  according  as  the  attention  is  more  or  less 
directed  to  the  elements  which  it  contains,  and  of  which  it  is 
composed. 


I3o  DESCARTES 

But,  meanwhile,  I  feel  greatly  astonished  when  I  observe  [the 
weakness  of  my  mind,  and]  its  proneness  to  error.  For  although, 
without  at  all  giving  expression  to  what  I  think,  I  consider  all 
this  in  my  own  mind,  words  yet  occasionally  impede  my  progress, 
and  I  am  almost  led  into  error  by  the  terms  of  ordinary  language. 
We  say,  for  example,  that  we  see  the  same  wax  when  it  is  before 
us,  and  not  that  we  judge  it  to  be  the  same  from  its  retaining  the 
same  colour  and  figure  :  whence  I  should  forthwith  be  disposed  to 
conclude  that  the  wax  is  known  by  the  act  of  sight,  and  not  by 
the  intuition  of  the  mind  alone,  were  it  not  for  the  analogous 
instance  of  human  beings  passing  on  in  the  street  below,  as  ob- 
served from  a  window.  In  this  case  I  do  not  fail  to  say  that  I  see 
the  men  themselves,  just  as  I  say  that  I  see  the  wax;  and  yet  what 
do  I  see  from  the  window  beyond  hats  and  cloaks  that  might 
cover  artificial  machines,  whose  motions  might  be  determined 
by  springs?  EjutJJudgg  that  there  gre.  human  beings^  from  these 
appearances,  and  tims  J  comprehend,  byiJiie  faculty  of  judg- 
mejit.  alone  which  JsJrj  t.he-jnind,  ^diaLLkelieved  T  aawjadtk  m7 


The  man  who  makes  it  his  aim  to  rise  to  knowledge  superior 
to  the  common,  ough.t  to  be  ashamed  to  seek  occasions  of  doubt- 
ing from  the  vulgar  forms  of  speech  :  instead,  therefore,  of  doing 
this,  I  shall  proceed  with  the  matter  in  hand,  and  inquire  whether 
I  had  a  clearer  and  more  perfect  perception  of  the  piece  of  wax 
when  I  first  saw  it,  and  when  I  thought  I  knew  it  by  means  of 
the  external  sense  itself,  or,  at  all  events;  by  the  common  sense 
(sensus  communis),  as  it  is  called,  that  is,  by  the  imaginative  fac- 
ulty; or  whether  I  rather  apprenend  it  more  clearly  at  present, 
after  having  examined  with  greater  care,  both  what  it  is,  and  in 
what  way  it  can  be  known.  It  would  certainly  be  ridiculous  to 
entertain  any  doubt  on  this  point.  For  what,  in  that  first  percep- 
tion, was  there  distinct  ?  What  did  I  perceive  which  any  animal 
might  not  have  perceived  ?  But  when  I  distinguish  the  wax  from 
its  exterior  forms,  and  when,  as  if  I  had  stripped  it  of  its  vest- 
ments, I  consider  it  quite  naked,  it  is  certain,  although  some 
error  may  still  be  found  in  my  judgment,  that  I  cannot,  never- 
theless, thus  apprehend  it  without  possessing  a  human  mind. 


MEDITATIONS  131 

But,  finally,  what  shall  I  say  of  the  mind  itself,  that  is,  of  my- 
self? for  as  yet  I  do  not  admit  that  I  am  anything  but  mind. 
What,  then!  I  who  seem  to  possess  so  distinct  an  apprehension 
of  the  piece  of  wax,  —  do  I  not  know  myself,  both  with  greater 
truth  and  certitude,  and  also  much  more  distinctly  and  clearly? 
For  if  I  judge  that  the  wax  exists  because  T  SPP  it,  it  assuredly 
follows,  much  more  evidently,  that  I  myself  gm  or  exist,  fnrjjip 
same-xeason :  for  it  is  possible  that  what  I  see  may  not  in  truth  be 
wax,  and  that  I  do  not  even  possess  eyes  with  which  to  see  any- 
thing; but  it  cannot  be  that  when  I  see,  or,  which  comes  to  the 
same  thing,  when  I  think  I  see,  I  myself  who  think  am  nothing. 
So  likewise,  if  I  judge  that  the  w^y  pyidtQ  bpr^^se  T  to^h  it,  it 
will  still^alsojollowjhat  J_am;  and  if  I  determine  that  my  imagi- 
nation, or  any  other  cause,  whatever  it  be,  persuades  me  of  the 
existence  of  the  wrax,  I  will  still  draw  the  same  conclusion.  And 
what  is  here  remarked  of  the  piece  of  wax,  is  applicable  to  all 
the  other  things  that  are  external  to  me.  And  further,  if  the 
[notion  or]  perception  of  wax  appeared  to  me  more  precise  and 
distinct,  after  that  not  only  sight  and  touch,  but  many  other 
causes  besides,  rendered  it  manifest  to  my  apprehension,  with 
how  much  greater  distinctness  must  I  now  know  myself,  since 
all  the  reasons  that  contribute  to  the  knowledge  of  the  nature 
of  wax,  or  of  any  body  whatever,  manifest  still  better  the  nature 
of  my  mind  ?  And  there  are  besides  so  many  other  things  in  the 
mind  itself  that  contribute  to  the  illustration  of  its  nature,  that 
those  dependent  on  the  body,  to  which  I  have  liere  referred, 
scarcely  merit  to  be  taken  into  account. 

But,  in  conclusion,  I  find  I  have  insensibly  reverted  to  the 
point  I  desired;  for,  jdnce Jt  is  now  manifest  to  me  that  bodies 
themselves  are  not  properly  perceived  by  the  senses  nor  by  the 
faculty  of  imagination,  but  by  the  intellect  alone ;  and  since  they 
are  not  perceived  because  they  are  seen  and  touched,  but  only 
•because  they  are  nnrWctnnH  [r>r  rightly  comprehended  by 
thought],  I  readily  discover  that  there  is  nothing  more  easily  j)r 
clearly  apprehended  than  my  own  mind.  But  because  it  is  diffi- 
^ult  to  rid  one'sself  so  promptly  of  an  opinion  to  which  one  has 
been  long  accustomed,  it  will  be  desirable  to  tarry  for  some  time 


i32  DESCARTES 

at  this  stage,  that,  by  long  continued  meditation,  I  may  more 
deeply  impress  upon  my  memory  this  new  knowledge. 

MEDITATION  III 
OF  GOD:    THAT  HE  EXISTS 

I  will  now  close  my  eyes,  I  will  stop  my  ears,  I  will  turn  away 
my  senses  from  their  objects,  I  will  even  efface  from  my  con- 
sciousness all  the  images  of  corporeal  things;  or  at  least,  because 
this  can  hardly  be  accomplished,  I  will  consider  them  as  empty 
and  false;  and  thus,  holding  converse  only  with  myself,  and 
closely  examining  my  nature,  I  will  endeavour  to  obtain  by 
degrees  a  more  intimate  and  familiar  knowledge  of  myself.  I 
am  a  thinking  (conscious)  thing,  that  is,  a  being  who  doubts, 
affirms,  denies,  knows  a  lew  objects,  and  is  ignorant  of  many,  — 
[who  loves,  hates],  wills,  refuses,  —  who  imagines  likewise,  and 
perceives ;  for,  as  I  before  remarked,  although  the  things  which  I 
perceive  or  imagine  are  perhaps  nothing  at  all  apart  from  me 
[and  in  themselves],  I  am  nevertheless  assured  that  those  modes 
of  consciousness  which  I  call  perceptions  and  imaginations, 
in  as  far  only  as  they  are  modes  of  consciousness,  exist  in  me. 
And  in  the  little  I  have  said  I  think  I  have  summed  up  all  that  I 
really  know,  or  at  least  all  that  up  to  this  time  I  was  aware  I 
knew.  Now,  as  I  am  endeavouring  to  extend  my  knowledge 
more  widely,  J  will  use  circumspection,  and  consider  with  care 
whether  I  can  still  discover  in  myself  anything  further  which  I 
have  not  yet  hitherto  observed.  I  am  certain  that  I  am  a  thinking 
thing;  but  do  I  not  therefore  likewise  know  what  is  required  to 
render  me  certain  of  a  truth  ?  In  this  first  knowledge,  doubtless, 
there  is  nothing  that  gives  me  assurance  of  its  truth  except  the 
clear  and  distinct  perception  of  what  I  affirm,  which  would  not 
indeed  be  sufficient  to  give  me  the  assurance  that  what  I  say  is 
true,  if  it  could  ever  happen  that  anything  I  thus  clearly  and 
distinctly  perceived  should  prove  false;  and  accordingly  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  may  now  take  as  a  general  rule^  tkat  jjlHhat  is  very 
.clearly  and  distinctly  apprehended  (conceived)  is  true. 

Nevertheless  I  before  received  and  admitted  many  things  as 


MEDITATIONS  133 

wholly  certain  and  manifest,  which  yet  I  afterwards  found  to  be 
doubtful.  What,  then,  were  those?  They  were  the  earth,  the 
sky,  the  stars,  and  all  the  other  objects  which  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
perceiving  by  the  senses.  But  what  wa§  it  that  I  clearly  [and 
distinctly]  perceived  in  them  ?  Nothing  more  than  that  the  ideas 
and  the  thoughts  of  those  objects  were  presented  to  my  mind. 
And  even  now  I  do  not  deny  that  these  ideas  are  found  in  my 
mind.  But  there  was  yet  another  thing  which  I  affirmed,  and 
which,  from  having  been  accustomed  to  believe  it,  I  thought  I 
clearly  perceived,  although,  in  truth,  I  did  not  perceive  it  at  all; 
I  mean  the  existence  of  objects  external  to  me,  from  which  those 
ideas  proceeded,  and  to  which  they  had  a  perfect  resemblance; 
and  it  was  here  I  was  mistaken,  or  if  I  judged  correctly,  this 
assuredly  was  not  to  be  traced  to  any  knowledge  I  possessed  (the 
force  of  my  perception,  Lat.). 

But  when  I  considered  any  matter  in  arithmetic  and  geometry, 
that  was  very  simple  and_easy,  as,  for  example,  that  two  and 
three  added  together  make  five,  and  things  of  this  sort,  did  I 
not  view  them  with  at  least  sufficient  clearness  to  warrant  me 
in  affirming  their  truth?  Indeed,  if  I  afterwards  judged  that  we 
ought  to  doubt  of  these  things,  it  was  for  no  other  reason  than 
because  it  occurred  to  me  that  a  God  might  perhaps  have  given 
me  such  a  nature  as  that  I  should  be  deceived,  even  respecting 
the  matters  that  appeared  to  me  the  most  evidently  true.  But 
as  often  as  this  preconceived  opinion  of  the  sovereign  power  of  a 
God  presents  itself  to  my  mind,  I  am  constrained  to  admit  that 
it  is  easy  for  him,  if  he  wishes  it,  to  cause  me  to  err,  even  in  mat- 
ters where  I  think  I  possess  the  highest  evidence;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  as  often  as  I  direct  my  attention  to  things  which  I 
think  I  apprehend  with  great  clearness,  I  am  so  persuaded  of 
their  truth  that  I  naturally  break  out  into  expressions  such  as 
these:  Deceive  me  who  may,  no  one  wjll  yet  ever  be  able  to  bring 
it  about  that  I  am  not,  so  long  as  I  shall  be  conscious  that  I  am, 
or  at  any  future  time  cause  it  to  be  true  that  I  have  never  been, 
it  being  now  true  that  I  am,  or  make  two  and  three  more  or  less 
than  five,  in  supposing  which,  and  other  like  absurdities,  I  dis- 
cover a  manifest  contradiction. 


I34  DESCARTES 

And  in  truth,  as  I  have  no  ground  for  believing  that  Deity  is 
deceitful,  and  as,  indeed,  I  have  not  even  considered  the  reasons 
by  which  the  existence  of  a  Deity  of  any  kind  is  established,  the 
ground  of  doubt  that  rests  only  on  this  supposition  is  very  slight, 
and,  so  to  speak,  metaphysical.  But,  that  I  may  be  able  wholly  to 
remove  ir/l  must  inquire  whether  there  is  a  God,  as  soon  as  an 
opportunify  of  doing  so  shall  present  itself;  and  if  I  find  that 
there  is  a  God,  I  must  examine  likewise  whether  he  can  be  a 
deceiverj  .for?without  the  knowledge  of  these  two  truths,  I  do 
not  see  that  I  can  ever  be  certain  of  anything.  And  that  I  may 
be  enabled  to  examine  this  without  interrupting  the  order  of 
meditation  I  have  proposed  to  myself  [which  is,  to  pass  by 
degrees  from  the  notions  that  I  shall  find  first  in  my  mind  to 
those  I  shall  afterwards  discover  in  it],  it  is  necessary  at  this 
stage  to  divide  all  my  thoughts  into  certain  classes,  and  to  con- 
sider in  which  of  these  classes  truth  and  error  are,  strictly  speak- 
ing, to  be  found. 

Of  my  thoughts  some  are,  as  it  were,  images  of  things,  and 
to  these  alone  properly  belongs  the  name  idea;  as  when  I  think 
[represent  to  my  mind]  a  man,  a  chimera,TKe  sky,  an  angel,  or 
God.  Others,  again,  have  certain  other  forms:  as  when_I  will, 
fear,  affirm,  or  deny,  I  always,  indeed,  apprehend  something  as 
the  object  of  my  thought,  jmt  I  also  embrace  in  thought  some- 
thing more  than  the  representation  of  the  object;  and  of  this 
class  of  thoughts  some  are  called  volitions  or  affections,  and 
others  judgments. 

Now,  with  respect  to  id^as,  if  these  are  considered  only  in 
themselves,  and  are  not  rjgf erred  to  any  object-. beyond  them, 
they^cj^npt^prnperly .speaking,  -b&- false;  for,  whether  I  imagine 
a  goat  or  a  chimera,  it  is  not  less  true  that  I  imagine  the  one 
than  the  other.  Nor  need  we  fear  that  falsity  may  exist  in  the 
will  or  affections;  for,  although  I  may  desire  objects  that  are 
wrong,  and  even  that  never  existed,  it  is  still  true  that  I  desire 
them.  There  thus  only  remain  our  judgments,  in  which  we  must 
take  diligent  heed  that  we  be  not  deceived.  But  the  chief  and 
most  ordinary  error  that  arises  in  them  consists  in  judging  that 
the  ideas  which  are  in  us  are  like  or  conformed  to  the  things 


MEDITATIONS  135 

that  are  external  to  us;  for  assuredly,  ifjwe  but  considered  the 
ideas  themselves  as  certain  modes  of  our  thought  (consciousness), 
without  referring  them  to  anything  beyond,  they  would  hardly 
arTordany  occasion  of  error. 

~T5ut,  among  the^IHeasT^onie  appear  to  me  tqjbe  innate, 
others  adventitious,  and  others  to  be  made  by  myself  (factitious)  ; 
for,  as  I  have  the  power  of  conceiving  what  is  called  a  thing,  or  a 
truth,  or  a  thought,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  hold  this  power  from  no 
other  sourcejhan  my  own  nature;  but  if  I  now  hear  a  noise,  if  I 
see  the  sun,  or  if  I  feel  heat,  I  have  all  along  judged  that  these 
sensations  proceeded  from  certain  objects  existing  out  of  myself; 
and,  in  fine,  it  appears  to  me  that  sirens,  hippogryphs,  and  the 
like,  are  inventions  of  my  own  mind.  But  I  may  even  perhaps 
come  to  be  of  opinion  that  all  my  ideas  are  of  the  class  which  I 
call  adventitious,  or  that  they  are  all  innate,  or  that  they  are  all 
factitious,  for  I  have  not  yet  clearly  discovered  their  true  origin  ; 
and  what  I  have  here  principally  to  do  is  to  consider,  with  refer- 
ence to  those  that  appear  to  come  from  certain  objects  with- 
out me,  what  grounds  there  are  for  thinking  them  like  these 
objects. 
The  first_of  th.£se,K>uBds  is4hat  i 


by  nature;  and  the  ^ondJMtJLam.  XQnsciojislhaLihQse  ideas 
are  not^pejidejil_WLiny_will,  and  therefore  not  on  myself,  for 
they  are  frequently  presented  to  me  against  my  will,  —  as  at 
present,  whether  I  will  or  not,  I  feel  heat  ;  and  I  am  thus  per- 
suaded that  this  sensation  or  idea  (sensum  vel  id  earn)  of  heat  is 
produced  in  me  by  something  different  from  myself,  viz.,  by  the 
heat  of  the  fire  by  which  I  sit.  And  it  is  very  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that  this  object  impresses  me  with  its  own  likeness  rather 
than  any  other  thing. 

But  I  must  consider  whether  these  reasons  are  sufficiently 
strong  and  convincing.  When  I  speak  of  being  taught  by  nature, 
in  this  matter,  I  understand  by  the  word  nature  only  a  certain 
spontaneous  impetus  that  impels  me  to  believe  in  a  resemblance 
between  ideas  and  their  objects,  and  not  a  natural  light  thalj 
affords  a  knowledge  of  its  truth.  But  these  two  things  are  widely 
different;  for  what  the  natural  light  shows  to  be  true  can  be  in 


136  DESCARTES 

no  degree  doubtful,  as,  for  example,  that  I  am  because  I  doubt, 
and  other  truths  of  the  like  kind :  inasmuch  as  I  possess  no  other 
faculty  whereby  to  distinguish  truth  from  error,  which  can  teach 
me  the  falsity  of  what  the  natural  light  declares  to  be  true,  and 
which  is  equally  trustworthy;  but  with  respect  to  [seemingly] 
natural  impulses,  I  have  observed,  when  the  question  related  to 
the  choice  of  right  or  wrong  in  action,  that  they  frequently  led 
me  to  take  the  worse  part;  nor  do  I  see  that  I  have  any  better 
ground  for  following  them  in  what  relates  to  truth  and  error. 
Then,  with  respect  to  the  other  reason,  which  is  that  because 
these  ideas  do  not  depend  on  my  will,  they  must  arise  from 
objects  existing  without  me,  I  do  not  find  it  more  convincing 
than  the  former;  for,  just  as  those  natural  impulses,  of  which  I 
have  lately  spoken,  are  found  in  me,  notwithstanding  that  they 
are  not  always  in  harmony  with  my  will,  so  likewise  it  may  be 
that  I  possess  some  power  not  sufficientMknown  to  myself  cap- 
able of  producing  ideas  without  the  aid  of  external  objects,  and, 
indeed,  it  has  always  hitherto  appeared  to  me  that  they  are 
formed  during  sleep,  by  some  power  of  this  nature,  without  the 
aid  of  aught  external.  And,  in  fine,  although  I  should  grant  that 
they  proceeded  fro£Q^ojej)b]ects,  it  is  not  ja,  necessarycpnse- 
quence  that  they  must  be  like  them.  On  the  contrary,  I  have 
observed,  in  a  number  of  instances,  that  there  was  a  great  differ- 
ence between  the  object  and  its  idea.  Thus,  for  example,  I  find 
in  my  mind  two  wholly  diverse  ideas  of  the  sun ;  the  one,  by  which 
it  appears  to  me  extremely  small,  draws  its  origin  from  the  senses, 
and  should  be  placed  in  the  class  of  adventitious  ideas ;  the  other, 
by  which  it  seems  to  be  many  times  larger  than  the  whole  earth, 
is  taken  up  on  astronomical  grounds,  that  is,  elicited  from  certain 
notions  born  with  me,  or  is  framed  by  myself  in  some  other  man- 
ner. These  two  ideas  cannot  certainly  both  resemble  the  same 
sun;  and  reason  teaches  me  that  the  one  which  seems  to  have 
immediately  emanated  from  it  is  the  most  unlike.  And  these 
things  sufficiently  prove  that  hitherto  it  has  not  been  from  a 
certain  and  deliberate  judgment,  but  only  from  a  sort  of  blind 
impulse,  that  I  believed  in  the  existence  of  certain  things  different 
from  myself,  which,  by  the  organs  of  sense,  or  by  whatever  other 


MEDITATIONS  137 

means  it  might  be,  conveyed  their  ideas  or  images  into  my  mind 
[and  impressed  it  with  their  likenesses]. 

But  there  is  still  another  way  of  inquiring  whether,  of  the 
objects  whose  ideas  are  in  my  mind,  there  are  any  that  exist  out 
of  me.  If  ideas  are  taken  in  so  far  only  as  they  are  certain  modes 
of  consciousness,  I  do  not  remark  any  difference  or  inequality 
among  them,  and  all  seem,  in  the  same  manner,  to  proceed  from 
myself;  but,  considering  them  as  images,  of  which  one  represents 
one  thing  and  another  a  different,  it  is  evident  that  a  great  diver- 
sity obtains  among  them.  For,  without  doubt,  those  that  repre- 
sent substances  are  something  more,  and  contain  in  themselves, 
so  to  speak,  more  objective  reality  [that  is,  participate  by  repre- 
sentation in  higher  degrees  of  being  or  perfection],  than  those 
that  represent  only  modes  or  accidents;  and  again,  the  idea  by 
which  I  conceive  a  God  [sovereign],  eternal,  infinite,  [immutable], 
all-knowing,  all-powerful,  and  the  creator  of  all  things  that  are 
out  of  himself,  —  this,  I  say,  has  certainly  in  it  more  objective 
reality  than  those  ideas  by  which  finite  substances  are  repre- 
sented. 

Now,  it  is  manifest  by  the  natural  light  that  there  must  at 
least  be  as  much  reality  in  the  efficient  and  total  cause  as  in  its 
effect;  for  whence  can  the  effect  draw  its  reality  if  not  from  its 
cause?  and  how  could  the  cause  communicate  to  it  this  reality 
unless  it  possessed  it  in  itself?  And  hpnrg  jt  jnllnws,  nntr  only  that 
what  is  cannot  be  produced  .by  what  is  not,  but  likewise,  that  the 
more  perfect,  —  in  other  words,  that  which  contains  in  itself 
more  reality,  —  cannot  .be  the  effect  of  .tlie^less~perfect :  and  this 
is  not  only  evidently  true  of  those  effects,  whose  reality  is  actual 
or  formal,  but  likewise  of  ideas,  whose  reality-is-only  considered 
as  objective.  Thus,  for  example,  the  stone  that  is  not  yet  in  ex-l 
istence,  not  only  cannot  now  commence  to  be,  unless  it  be  pro-\ 
duced  by  that  which  possesses  in  itself,  formally  or  eminently, 
all  that  enters  into  its  composition,  [in  other  words,  by  that  which 
contains  in  itself  the  same  properties  that  are  in  the  stone,  or 
others  superior  to  them];  and  heat  can  only  be  produced  in  a  sub- 
ject that  was  before  devoid  of  it,  by  a  cause  that  is  of  an  order, 
[degree  or  kind],  at  least  as  perfect  as  heat;  and  so  of  the  others. 


138  DESCARTES 

But  further,  even  the  idea  of  the  heat,  or  of  the  stone,  cannot 
exist  in  me  unless  it  be  put  there  by  a  cause  that  contains,  at 
least,  as  much  reality  as  I  conceive  existent  in  the  heat  or  in  the 
stone:  for,  although  that  cause  may  not  transmit  into  my  idea 
anything  of  its  actual  or  formal  reality,  we  ought  not  on  this 
account  to  imagine  that  it  is  less  real;  but  we  ought  to  consider 
that,  [as  every  idea  is  a  work  of  the  mind],  its  nature  is  such  as 
of  itself  to  demand  no  other  formal  reality  than  that  which  it 
borrows  from  our  consciousness,  of  which  it  is  but  a  mode,  [that 
is,  a  manner  or  way  of  thinking].  But  in  order  that  an  idea  may 
contain  this  objective  reality  rather  than  that,  it  must  doubtless 
derive  it  from  some  cause  in  which  is  found  at  least  as  much 
formal  reality  as  the  idea  contains  of  objective;  for,  if  we  sup- 
pose that  there  is  found  in  an  idea  anything  which  was  not  in 
its  cause,  it  must  of  course  derive  this  from  nothing.  But,  how- 
ever imperfect  may  be  the  mode  of  existence  by  which  a  thing  is 
objectively  [or  by  representation]  in  the  understanding  by  its 
idea,  we  certainly  cannot,  for  all  that,  allege  that  this  mode  of 
existence  is  nothing,  nor,  consequently,  that  the  idea  owes  its 
origin  to  nothing.  Nor  must  it  be  imagined  that,  since  the  reality 
which  is  considered  in  these  ideas  is  only  objective,  the  same 
reality  need  not  be  formally  (actually)  in  the  causes  of  these 
ideas,  but  only  objectively:  for,  just  as  the  mode  of  existing 
objectively  belongs  to  ideas  by  their  peculiar  nature,  so  likewise 
the  mode  of  existing  formally  appertains  to  the  causes  of  these 
ideas  (at  least  to  the  first  and  principal),  by  their  peculiar  nature. 
And  although  an  idea  may  give  rise  to  another  idea,  this  regress 
cannot,  nevertheless,  be  infinite;  we  must  in  the  end  reach  a 
first  idea,  the  cause  of  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  archetype  in  which  / 
all  the  reality  [or  perfection]  that  is  found  objectively  [or  by 
representation]  in  these  ideas  is  contained  formally  [and  in  act]. 
[  am  thus  clearly  taught  by  the  natural  light  that  ideas  exist  in 
isjDictures  or  images,  whichjnay-JrL.triith  readily  ialljshort 
of  the  perfection  ^f_the_objects  from  which  they  arejtakefiy  but 
3  neVer_coritfl.in  anything  greater  or  more  perfect. 
And  in  proportion  to  the  time  and  care  with  which  I  examine 
i  those  matters,  the  conviction  of  their  truth  brightens  and 


MEDITATIONS  139 

becomes  distinct.  But,  to  sum  up,  what  conclusion  shall  I  draw 
from  it  all?  It  is  this; — jfj:he  objective  reality  [or  perfection! 
of  any  one  of  my  ideas  be  such  as  clearly  to  convince  me,  that 
Jjiis  same  reality  exists  in  me  neither  formally  nor  eminently 
jmd  if,  as  follows  from  this,  I  myself  cannot  be  the  cause  of  it. 
jt  is  a  necessary  consequence  that  I  am  not  alone  in  the  world, 
but  thaf  there  is  besides  myself  some  other  being  who  exists  as 
the  cause  of  that  idea;  while,  on  the  contrary,  if  no  such  idea 
be  found  in  my  mind,  I  shall  have  no  sufficient  ground  of  assur- 
ance of  the  existence  of  any  other  being  besides  myself;  for, 
after  a  most  careful  search,  I  have,  up  to  this  moment,  been 
unable  to  discover  any  other  ground. 

But,  among  these  my  ideas,^  besides  that  which  represents 
myself,  respecting  which  there  can  be  here  no  difficulty,  there  is 
one  that  represents  a  God;  others  that  represent  corporeal  and 
inanimate  things;  others  angels;  others  animals;  and,  finally, 
there  are  some  that  represent  men  like  myself.  But  with  respect 
to  the  ideas  that  represent  other  men,  or  animals,  or  angels,  I 
can  easily  suppose  that  they  were  formed  by  the  mingling  and 
composition  of  the  other  ideas  which  I  have  of  myself,  of  cor- 
poreal things,  and  of  God,  although  there  were,  apart  from  my- 
self, neither  men,  animals,  nor  angels.  And  with  regard  to  the 
ideas  of  corporeal  objects,  I  never  discovered  in  them  anything 
so  great  or  excellent  which  I  myself  did  not  appear  capable  of 
originating;  for,  by  considering  these  ideas  closely  and  scrutinis- 
ing them  individually,  in  the  same  way  that  I  yesterday  exam- 
ined the  idea  of  wax,  I  find  that  there  is  but  little  in  them  that 
is  clearly  and  distinctly  perceived.  As  belonging  to  the  class  of 
things  that  are  clearly  apprehended,  I  recognise  the  following, 
viz.,  magnitude  or  extension  in  length,  breadth,  and  depth; 
figure,  which  results  from  the  termination  of  extension;  situa- 
tion, which  bodies  of  diverse  figures  preserve  with  reference  to 
each  other;  and  motion  or  the  change  of  situation;  to  which 
may  be  added  substance,  duration,  and  number.  But  with 
regard  to  light,  colours,  sounds,  odours,  tastes,  heat,  cold,  and 
the  other  tactile  qualities,  they  are  thought  with  so  much  ob- 
scurity and  confusion,  that  I  cannot  determine  even  whether 


i4o  DESCARTES 

they  are  true  or  false ;  in  other  words.,  whether  or  not  the  ideas  I 
have  of  these  qualities  are  in  truth  the  ideas  of  real  objects. 
For  although  I  before  remarked  that  it  is  only  in  judgments  that 
formal  falsity,  or  falsity  properly  so  called,  can  be  met  with, 
lEere^  may~nevertheiess  be  tound_jn_JHjas- a  ™>rtain  material^ 
falsity,  which  arises  when  they  represent  what  is  nothing  as  if 
it  were  something.  Thus,  for  example,  the  ideas  I  have  of  cold 
and  heat  are  so  far  from  being  clear  and  distinct,  that  I  am  un- 
able from  them  to  discover  whether  cold  is  only  the  privation 
of  heat,  or  heat  the  privation  of  cold;  or  whether  they  are  or 
are  not  real  qualities:  and  since,  ideas  being  as  it  were  images, 
there  can  be  none  that  does  not  seem  to  us  to  represent  some 
object,  the  idea  which  represents  cold  as  something  real  and 
positive  will  not  improperly  be  called  false,  if  it  be  correct  to  say 
that  cold  is  nothing  but  a  privation  of  heat;  and  so  in  other  cases. 
To  ideas  of  this  kind,  indeed,  it  is  not  necessary  that  I  should 
assign  any  author  besides  myself:  for  if  they  are  false,  that  is, 
represent  objects  that  are  unreal,  the  natural  light  teaches  me 
that  they  proceed  from  nothing;  in  other  words,  that  they  are 
in  me  only  because  something  is  wanting  to  the  perfection  of  my 
nature;  but  if  these  ideas  are  true,  yet  because  they  exhibit  to 
me  so  little  reality  that  I  cannot  even  distinguish  the  object 
represented  from  non-being,  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  not  be 
the  author  of  them. 

With  reference  to  those  ideas  of  corporeal  things  that  are 
clear  and  distinct,  there  are  some  which,  as  appears  to  me, 
might  have  been  taken  from  the  idea  I  have  of  myself,  as  those 
of  substance,  duration,  number,  and  the  like.  For  when  I  think 
that  a  stone  is  a  substance,  or  a  thing  capable  of  existing  of  itself, 
and  that  I  am  likewise  a  substance,  although  I  conceive  t  I 
am  a  thinking  and  non-extended  thing,  and  that  the  stc  Dn 
the  contrary,  is  extended  and  unconscious,  there  being  th  le 
greatest  diversity  between  the  two  concepts,  —  yet  thes  ro 
ideas  seem  to  have  this  in  common  that  they  both  rep:  it 
substances.  In  the  same  way,  when  I  think  of  myself  as  now 
existing,  and  recollect  besides  thaf  I  existed  some  time  ago,  and 
when  I  am  conscious  of  various  thoughts  whose  number  I  know, 


MEDITATIONS  141 

I  then  acquire  the  ideas  of  duration  and  number,  which  I  can 
afterwards  transfer  to  as  many  objects  as  I  please.  With  respect 
to  the  other  qualities  that  go  to  make  up  the  ideas  of  corporeal 
objects,  viz.,  extension,  figure,  situation,  and  motion,  it  is  true 
that  they  are  not  formally  in  me,  since  I  am  merely  a  thinking 
being;  but  because  they  are  only  certain  modes  of  substance, 
and  because  I  myself  am  a  substance,  it  seems  possible  that  they 
may  be  contained  in  me  eminently. 

There  only  remains,  therefore,  the  idea  of  God,  in  which  I 
must  consider  whether  there  is  anything  that  cannot  be  sup- 
posed to  originate  with  mvself.  By  the  name  God,  I  under- 
stand a  substance  infinite,  [eternal,  immutable],  independent, 
all-knowing,  all-powerful,  and  by  which  I  myself,  and  every 
other  thing  that  exists,  if  any  such  there  be,  were  created.  But 
these  properties  are  so  great  and  excellent,  that  the  more  atten- 
tively I  consider  them  the  less  I  feel  persuaded  that  the  idea  I 
have  of  them  owes  its  origin  to  myself  alone.  And  thus  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  conclude,  from  all  that  I  have  before 
said,  that  God  exists:  joMjiough  the  idea  of  substance  be  in 
my  mind  owing  to  this,  that  I  myself  am  a  substance,  I  sjiQuld" 
not,  however,  have  the  idea  of  an  infinite  substance,  seeing  I 
amjt  finitej^njk^^  me  by  son^^u^sjajic^Jif 

reality  infinite. 

And  I  must  not  imagine  that  I  do  not  apprehend  the  infinite 
by  a  true  idea,  but  only  by  the  negation  of  the  finite,  in  the  same 
way  that  I  comprehend  repose  and  darkness  by  the  negation  of 
motion  and  light:  since,  on  the  contrary,  I  clearly  perceive  that 
there  is  more  reality  in  the  infinite  substance  than  in  the  finite, 
and  therefore  that  in  some  way  I  possess  the  perception  (notion) 
of  the  infinite  before  that  of  the  finite,  that  is,  the  perception 
of  God  before  that  of  myself,  for  how  could  I  know  that  I  doubt, 
desire,  or  that  something  is  wanting  to  me,  and  that  I  am  notj 
wholly  perfect,  if  I  possessed  no  idea  of  a  being  more  perfect 
than  myself,  by  comparison  of  which  I  knew  the  deficiencies  of 
my  nature  ? 

And  it  cannot  be  said  that  this  idea  of  God  is  perhaps  materi- 
ally false,  and  consequently  that  it  may  have  arisen  from  nothing, 


142  DESCARTES 

[in  other  words,  that  it  may  exist  in  me  from  my  imperfection], 
as  I  before  said  of  the  ideas  of  heat  and  cold,  and  the  like :  for, 
on  the  contrary,  as  this  idea  is  very  clear  and  distinct,  and  con- 
tains in  itself  more  objective  reality  than  any  other,  there  can 
be  no  one  of  itself  more  true,  or  less  open  to  the  suspicion  of 
falsity. 

The  idea,  <E  say,  of  a  being  supremely  perfect,  and  infinite, 
is  in  the  highest  degree  true;  for  although,  perhaps,  we  may 
imagine  that  such  a  being  does  not  exist,  we  cannot,  nevertheless, 
suppose  that  his  idea  represents  nothing  real,  as  I  have  already 
said  of  the  idea  of  cold.  It  is  likewise  clear  and  distinct  in  the 
highest  degree,  since  whatever  the  mind  clearly  and  distinctly 
conceives  as  real  or  true,  and  as  implying  any  perfection,  is  con- 
tained entire  in  this  idea.  And  this  is  true,  nevertheless,  although 
I  do  not  comprehend  the  infinite,  and  although  there  may  be 
in  God  an  infinity  of  things  that  I  cannot  comprehend,  nor 
perhaps  even  compass  by  thought  in  any  way;  for  it  is  of  the 
nature  of  the  infinite  that  it  should  not  be  comprehended  by  the 
finite;  and  it  is  enough  that  I  rightly  understand  this,  and  judge 
that  all  which  I  clearly  perceive,  and  in  which  I  know  there  is 
some  perfection,  and  perhaps  also  an  infinity  of  properties  of 
which  I  am  ignorant,  are  formally  or  eminently  in  God,  in  order 
that  the  idea  I  have  of  him  may  become  the  most  true,  clear,  and 
distinct  of  all  the  ideas  in  my  mind. 

But  perhaps  I  am  something  more  than  I  suppose  myself  to 
be,  and  it  may  be  that  all  those  perfections  which  I  attribute 
to  God,  in  some  way  exist  potentially  in  me,  although  they  do 
not  yet  show  themselves,  and  are  not  reduced  to  act.  Indeed,  I 
am  already  conscious  that  my  knowledge  is  being  increased  [and 
perfected]  by  degrees;  and  I  see  nothing  to  prevent  it  from  thus 
gradually  increasing  to  infinity,  nor  any  reason  why,  after  such 
increase  and  perfection,  I  should  not  be  able  thereby  to  acquire 
all  the  other  perfections  of  the  Divine  nature;  nor,  in  fine,  why 
the  power  I  possess  of  acquiring  those  perfections,  if  it  really 
now  exist  in  me,  should  not  be  sufficient  to  produce  the  ideas 
of  them.  Yet,  on  looking  more  closely  into  the  matter,  I  dis- 
cover that  this  cannot  be ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  although  it  were 


MEDITATIONS  143 

true  that  my  knowledge  daily  acquired  new  degrees  of  perfection, 
and  although  there  were  potentially  in  my  nature  much  that  was 
not  as  yet  actually  in  it,  still  all  these  excellences  make  not 
the  slightest  approach  to  the  idea  I  have  of  the  Deity,  in  whom 
there  is  no  perfection  merely  potentially  [but  all  actually]  exist- 
ent; for  it  is  even  an  unmistakeable  token  of  imperfection  in  my 
knowledge,  that  it  is  augmented  by  degrees.  Further,  although 
my  knowledge  increase  more  and  more,  nevertheless  I  am  not, 
therefore,  induced  to  think  that  it  will  ever  be  actually  infinite, 
since  it  can  never  reach  that  point  beyond  which  it  shall  be  in- 
capable of  further  increase.  But  I  conceive  God  as  actually 
infinite,  so  that  nothing  can  be  added  to  his  perfection.  And,  in 
fine,  I  readily  perceive  that  the  objective  being  of  an  idea  can- 
not be  produced  by  a  being  that  is  merely  potentially  existent, 
which,  properly  speaking,  is  nothing,  but  only  by  a  being  exist- 
ing formally  or  actually. 

And,  truly,  I  see  nothing  in  all  that  I  have  now  said  which 
it  is  not  easy  for  any  one,  who  shall  carefully  consider  it,  to  dis- 
cern by  the  natural  light ;  but  when  I  allow  my  attention  in  some 
degree  to  relax,  the  vision  of  my  mind  being  obscured,  and,  as 
it  were,  blinded  by  the  images  of  sensible  objects,  I  do  not 
readily  remember  the  reason  why  the  idea  of  a  being  more  per- 
fect than  myself,  must  of  necessity  have  proceeded  from  a  being 
in  reality  more  perfect.  On  this  account  I  am  here  desirous  to 
inquire  further,  whether  I,  wTio  possess  this  idea  of  God,  could 
exist  supposing  there  were  no  God.  And  I  ask,  from  whom 
could  I,  in  that  case,  derive  my  existence  ?  Perhaps  from  myself,, 
or  from  my  parents,  or  from  some  other  causes  less  perfect  than 
God ;  for  anything  more  perfect,  or  even  equal  to  God,  cannot  be 
thought  or  imagined.  But  if  I  [were  independent  of  every  other 
existence,  and]  were  myself  the  author  of  my  being,  I  should 
doubt  of  nothing,  I  should  desire  nothing,  and,  in  fine,  no  per- 
fection would  be  awanting  to  me;  for  I  should  have  bestowed 
upon  myself  every  perfection  of  which  I  possess  the  idea,  and  I 
should  thus  be  God.  And  it  must  not  be  imagined  that  what  is 
now  wanting  to  me  is  perhaps  of  more  difficult  acquisition  than 
that  of  which  I  am  already  possessed;  for,  on  the  contrary,  it  is 


i44  DESCARTES 

quite  manifest  that  it  was  a  matter  of  much  higher  difficulty  that 
I,  a  thinking  being,  should  arise  from  nothing,  than  it  would  be 
for  me  to  acquire  the  knowledge  of  many  things  of  which  I  am 
ignorant,  and  which  are  merely  the  accidents  of  a  thinking  sub- 
stance ;  and  certainly,  if  I  possessed  of  myself  the  greater  perfec- 
tion of  which  I  have  now  spoken,  [in  other  words,  if  I  were  the 
author  of  my  own  existence],  I  would  not  at  least  have  denied 
to  myself  things  that  may  be  more  easily  obtained,  [as  that  infi- 
nite variety  of  knowledge  of  which  I  am  at  present  destitute]. 
I  could  not,  indeed,  have  denied  to  myself  any  property  which 
I  perceive  is  contained  in  the  idea  of  God,  because  there  is  none 
of  these  that  seems  to  me  to  be  more  difficult  to  make  or  acquire; 
and  if  there  were  any  that  should  happen  to  be  more  difficult 
to  acquire,  they  would  certainly  appear  so  to  me  (supposing  that 
I  myself  were  the  source  of  the  other  things  I  possess),  because 
I  should  discover  in  them  a  limit  to  my  power.  And  though  I 
were  to  suppose  that  I  always  was  as  I-  now  am,  I  should  not, 
on  this  ground,  escape  the  force  of  these  reasonings,  since  it 
would  not  follow,  even  on  this  supposition,  that  no  author  of 
my  existence  needed  to  be  sought  after.  For  the  whole  time  of  my 
life  may  be  divided  into  an  infinity  of  parts,  each  of  which  is  in 
no  way  dependent  on  any  other;  and,  accordingly,  because  I  was 
in  existence  a  short  time  ago,  it  does  not  follow  that  I  must  now 
exist,  unless  in  this  moment  some  cause  create  me  anew  as  it 
were,  —  that  is,  conserve  me.  In  truth,  it  is  perfectly  clear  and 
evident  to  all  who  will  attentively  consider  the  nature  of  duration, 
that  the  conservation  of  a  substance,  in  each  moment  of  its 
duration,  requires  the  same  power  and  act  that  would  be  neces- 
sary to  create  it,  supposing  it  were  not  yet  in  existence;  so  that 
it  is  manifestly  a  dictate  of  the  natural  light  that  conservation 
and  creation  differ  merely  in  respect  of  our  mode  of  thinking 
[and  not  in  reality].  All  that  is  here  required,  therefore,  is  that  I 
interrogate  myself  to  discover  whether  I  possess  any  power  by 
means  of  which  I  can  bring  it  about  that  I,  who  now  am,  shall 
exist  a  moment  afterwards:  for,  since  I  am  merely  a  thinking 
thing  (or  since,  at  least,  the  precise  question,  in  the  meantime, 
is  only  of  that  part  of  myself),  if  such  a  power  resided  in  me,  I 


MEDITATIONS  145 

should,  without  doubt,  be  conscious  of  it;  but  I  am  conscious 
of  no  such  power,  and  thereby  I  manifestly  know  that  I  am  de- 
pendent upon  some  being  different  from  myself. 

But  perhaps  the  being  upon  whom  I  am  dependent,  is  not 
God,  and  I  have  been  produced  either  by  my  parents,  or  by 
some  causes  less  perfect  than  Deity.  This  cannot  be:  for,  as  I 
before  said,  it  is  perfectly  evident  that  there  must  at  least  be  as 
much  reality  in  the  cause  as  in  its  effect ;  and  accordingly,  since 
Tjvrr^a.  thinking  thing,  and  possess  in jnffself  an  idea  of  Goo*, 
whatever  in  the  end  be  the  cause  of  my  existence,  it  rnust_of_ 
necessity  be  admitted  that  it  is  likewise  a  thinking  being,  and 
that  it  possesses  in  itself  the  idea  and  all  the  perfections  j^attri- 
bute_to  Deity.  Then  it  may  again  be  inquired  whether  this 
cause  owes  its  origin  and  existence  to  itself,  or  to  some  other 
cause.  For  if  it  be  self-existent,  it  follows,  from  what  I  have 
before  laid  down,  that  this  cause  is  God;  for,  since  it  possesses 
the  perfection  of  self -existence,  it  must  likewise,  without  doubt, 
have  the  power  of  actually  possessing  every  perfection  of  which 
it  has  the  idea,  —  in  other  words,  all  the  perfections  I  conceive 
to  belong  to  God.  But  if  it  owe  its  existence  to  another  cause 
than  itself,  we  demand  again,  for  a  similar  reason,  whether 
this  second  cause  exists  of  itself  or  through  some  other,  uniil, 
from  stage  to  stage,  we  aHeagth  arrive-  at  an  ultimate  cause;, 
which  will  be  God.  And  it  is  quite  manifest  that  in  this  matter 
there  can  be  no  infinite  regress  of  causes,  seeing  that  the  question 
raised  respects  not  so  much  the  cause  which  once  produced  me, 
as  that  by  which  I  am  at  this  present  moment  conserved. 

Nor  can  it  be  supposed  that  several  causes  concurred  in  my 
production,  and  that  from  one  I -received  the  idea  of  one  of  the 
perfections  I  attribute  to  Deity,  and  from  another  the  idea  of 
some  other,  and  thus  that  all  those  perfections  are  indeed  found 
somewhere  in  the  universe,  but  do  not  all  exist  together  in  a 
single  being  who  is  God;  for,  on  the  contrary,  the  unity,  the 
simplicity  or  inseparability  of  all  the  properties  of  Deity,  is  one 
of  the  chief  perfections  I  conceive  him  to  possess;  and  the  idea 
of  this  unity  of  all  the  perfections  of  Deity,  could  certainly  not 
be  put  into  my  mind  by  any  cause  from  which  I  did  not  like- 


146  DESCARTES 

wise  receive  the  ideas  of  all  the  other  perfections;  or  no  power 
could  enable  me  to  embrace  them  in  an  inseparable  unity,  with- 
out at  the  same  time  giving  me  the  knowledge  of  what  they 
were  [and  of  their  existence  in  a  particular  mode]. 

Finally,  with  regard  to  my  parents  [from  whom  it  appears  I 
sprung],  although  all  that  I  believed  respecting  them  be  true, 
it  does  not,  nevertheless,  follow  that  I  am  conserved  by  them, 
or  even  that  I  was  produced  by  them,  in  so  far  as  I  am  a  thinking 
being.  All  that,  at  the  most,  they  contributed  to  my  origin  was 
the  giving  of  certain  dispositions  (modifications)  to  the  matter 
in  which  I  have  hitherto  judged  that  I  or  my  mind,  which  is 
what  alone  I  now  consider  to  be  myself,  is  enclosed;  and  thus 
there  can  here  be  no  difficulty  with  respect  to  them,  and  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  conclude  from  this  alone  that  I  am,  and 
possess  the  idea  of  a  being  absolutely  perfect,  that  is,  of  God, 
that  his  existence  is  most  clearly  demonstrated. 

There  remains  only  the  inquiry  as  to  the  way  in  which  I  re- 
ceived this  idea  from  God;  for  I  have  not  drawn  it  from  the  senses, 
nor  is  it  even  presented  to  me  unexpectedly,  as  is  usual  with 
the  ideas  of  sensible  objects,  when  these  are  presented  or  appear 
to  be  presented  to  the  external  organs  of  the  senses;  it  is  not  even 
a  pure  production  or  fiction  of  my  mind,  for  it  is  not  in  my  power 
to  take  from  or  add  to  it;  and  consequently  there  but  remains 
the  alternative  that  it  is  innate,  in  the  same  way  as  is  the  idea  of 
myself.  And,  in  truth,  it  is  norto  be  wondered  at  that  God,  at 
my  creation,  implanted  this  idea  in  me,  that  it  might  serve,  as 
it  were,  for  the  mark  of  the  workman  impressed  on  his  work ;  and 
it  is  not  also  necessary  that  the  mark  should  be  something  differ- 
ent from  the  work  itself;  but  considering  only  that  God  is  my 
creator,  it  is  highly  probable  that  he  in  some  way  fashioned 
me  after  his  own  image  and  likeness,  and  that  I  perceive  this 
likeness,  in  which  is  contained  the  idea  of  God,  by  the  same 
faculty  by  which  I  apprehend  myself,  —  in  other  words,  when 
I  make  myself  the  object  of  reflection,  I  not  only  find  that  I 
am  an  incomplete,  [imperfect]  and  dependent  being,  and  one 
who  unceasingly  aspires  after  something  better  and  greater 
than  he  is;  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  am  assured  likewise  that  he 


MEDITATIONS  147 

upon  whom  I  am  dependent  possesses  in  himself  all  the  goods 
after  which  I  aspire,  [and  the  ideas  of  which  I  find  in  my  mind], 
and  that  not  merely  indefinitely  and  potentially,  but  infinitely 
and  actually,  and  that  he  is  thus  God.  And  the  whole  force  of 
the  argument  of  which  I  have  here  availed  myself  to~  establish 
the  existence  of  God,  consists  in  this,  that  I  perceive  I  could 
not  possibly  be  of  such  a  nature  as  I  am,  and  yet  have  in  my 
mind  the  idea  of  a  God,  if  God  did  not  in  reality  exist.  —  this 
same  jGodJ_l_say.  whose  idea  is  in  my  mind  —  that  is,  a  be- 
ing whojpossesses  all  those  lofty  perfections,  of  which  the  mind 
may  have  some  slight  conception,  without,  however,  being  able 
fully  jc^comprehend  tiiejri^zi^and  whfT^~whr>11y  superior  to  a.U_ 
defect,  [and  has  nothing  thatmarks  imperfection]:  whence  it  is_ 
sufficiently  manifest  thnt  hpTarvnnt  hp  a  HpppivprT  since  it  is  a 
dictateof  the  natural  light  that  all  fraud  and  deception  spring 
from  some  defect 

But  before  I  examine  this  with  more  attention,  and  pass  on 
to  the  consideration  of  other  truths  that  may  be  evolved  out 
of  it,  I  think  it  proper  to  remain  here  for  some  time  in  the 
contemplation  of  God  himself  —  that  I  may  ponder  at  leisure 
his  marvellous  attributes  —  and  behold,  admire,  and  adore  the 
beauty  of  this  light  so  unspeakably  great,  as  far,  at  least,  as  the 
strength  of  my  mind,  which  is  to  some  degree  dazzled  by  the  sight, 
will  permit.  For  just  as  we  learn  by  faith  that  the  supreme 
felicity  of  another  life  consists  in  the  contemplation  of  the  Divine 
majesty  alone,  so  even  now  we  learn  from  experience  that  a  like 
meditation,  though  incomparably  less  perfect,  is  the  source  of  the 
highest  satisfaction  of  which  we  are  susceptible  in  this  life. 


BARUCH  DE  SPINOZA 

.      (1632-1677) 

THE  ETHICS 

Translated  from  the  Latin*  by 
R.  H.  M.  ELWES 

PART!.  — CONCERNING  GOD 

DEFINITIONS 

I.  BY  that  which  is  selj-caitsed,  I  mean  that  of  which  the 
essence  involves  existence,  or  that  of  which  the  nature  is  only 
conceivable  as  existent. 

II.  A  thing  is  called  finite  after  its  kind,  when  it  can  be  limited 
by  another  thing  of  the  same  nature;  for  instance,  a  body  is 
called  finite  because  we  always  conceive  another  greater  body. 
So,  also,  a  thought  is  limited  by  another  thought,  but  a  body 
is  not  limited  by  thought,  nor  a  thought  by  body. 

III.  By  substance,  I  mean  that  which  is  in  itself,  and  is  con- 
ceived through  itself :  in  other  words,  that  of  which  a  conception 
can  be  formed  independently  of  any  other  conception. 

IV.  By  attribute,  I  mean  that  which  the  intellect  perceives 
as  constituting  the  essence  of  substance. 

V.  By  mode,  I  mean  the  modifications  of  substance,  or  that 
which  exists  in,  and  is  conceived  through,  something  other  than 
itself. 

VI.  By  God,  I  mean  a  being  absolutely  infinite  —  that  is,  a 
substance  consisting  in  infinite  attributes,  of  which  each  ex- 
presses eternal  and  infinite  essentiality. 

Explanation.  —  I  say  absolutely  infinite,  not  infinite  after  its 
kind :  for,  of  a  thing  infinite  only  after  its  kind,  infinite  attributes 
may  be  denied;  but  that  which  is  absolutely  infinite,  contains  in 

*  Opera  posthuma,  Amsterdam,  1677;  Opera,  ed.  C.  H.  B ruder,  Leipzig, 
1843-46  ("Ethica  ordine  geometrica  demonstrata,"  vol.  i,  pp.  143-416).  Re- 
printed here  from  Spinoza's  Works,  translated  by  R.  H.  M.  Elwes.  London, 
George  Bell  and  Sons,  1884;  rev.  ed.,  1906. 


THE  ETHICS  149 


its  essence  whatever  expresses  reality,  and  involves  no  nega- 
tion. 

VII.  That  thing  is  called  free,  which  exists  solely  by  the  ne- 
cessity of  its  own  nature,  and  of  which  the  action  is  determined 
by  itself  alone.    On  the  other  hand,  that  thing  is  necessary,  or 
rather  constrained,  which  is  determined  by  something  external 
to  itself  to  a  fixed  and  definite  method  of  existence  or  action. 

VIII.  By  eternity,  I  mean  existence  itself,  in  so  far  as  it  is 
conceived  necessarily  to  follow  solely  from  the  definition  of  that 
which  is  eternal.. 

Explanation.  —  Existence  of  this  kind  is  conceived  as  an 
eternal  truth,  like  the  essence  of  a  thing,  and,  therefore,  cannot 
be  explained  by  means  of  continuance  or  time,  though  continu- 
ance may  be  conceived  without  a  beginning  'or  end. 

AXIOMS 

I.  Everything  which  exists,  exists  either  in  itself  or  in  some- 
thing else. 

II.  That  which  cannot  be  conceived  through  anything  else 
must  be  conceived  through  itself. 

III.  From  a  given  definite  cause  an  effect  necessarily  follows; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  if  no  definite  cause  be  granted,  it  is  im- 
possible that  an  effect  can  follow. 

IV.  The  knowledge  of  an  effect  depends  on  and  involves  the 
knowledge  of  a  cause. 

V.  Things  which  have  nothing  in  common  cannot  be  under- 
stood, the  one  by  means  of  the  other;  the  conception  of  one  does 
not  involve  the  conception  of  the  other. 

VI.  A  true  idea  must  correspond  with  its  ideate  or  object. 

VII.  If  a  thing  can  be  conceived  as  non-existing,  its  essence 
does  not  involve  existence. 

PROPOSITIONS 

PROP.  I.  Substance  is  by  nature  prior  to  its  modifications. 
Pro-     — This  is  clear  from  Deff.  iii.  and  v. 
:          II.  Two  substances,  whose  attributes  are  different,  have 
not         in  common. 


i5o  SPINOZA 

Proof.  —  Also  evident  from  Def.  iii.  For  each  must  exist  in 
itself,  and  be  conceived  through  itself;  in  other  words,  the  con- 
ception of  one  does  not  imply  the  conception  of  the  other. 

PROP.  III.  Things  which  have  nothing  in  common  cannot  be 
one  the  cause  oj  the  other. 

Proof.  —  If  they  have  nothing  in  common,  it  follows  that 
one  cannot  be  apprehended  by  means  of  the  other  (Ax.  v.), 
and,  therefore,  one  cannot  be  the  cause  of  the  other  (Ax.  iv.). 
Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  IV.  Two  or  more  distinct  things  are  distinguished  one 
from  the  other ,  either  by  the  difference  of  the  attributes  of  the  sub- 
stances,  or  by  the  difference  oj  their  modifications. 

Proof.  —  Everything  which  exists,  exists  either  in  itself  or  in 
something  else  (Ax.  i.),  —  that  is  (by  Defs.  iii.  and  v.),  nothing 
is  granted  in  addition  to  the  understanding,  except  substance 
and  its  modifications.  Nothing  is,  therefore,  given  besides  the 
understanding,  by  which  several  things  may  be  distinguished 
one  from  the  other,  except  the  substances,  or,  in  other  words 
(see  Ax.  iv.),  their  attributes  and  modifications.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  V.  There  cannot  exist  in  the  universe  two  or  more  sub- 
stances having  the  same  nature  or  attribute. 

Proof.  —  If  several  distinct  substances  be  granted,  they  must 
be  distinguished  one  from  the  other,  either  by  the  difference 
of  their  attributes,  or  by  the  difference  of  their  modifications 
(Prop.  iv.).  If  only  by  the  difference  of  their  attributes,  it  will 
be  granted  that  there  cannot  be  more  than  one  with  an  identi- 
cal attribute.  If  by  the  difference  of  their  modifications,  —  as 
substance  is  naturally  prior  to  its  modifications  (Prop,  i.),  —  it 
follows  that  setting  the  modifications  aside,  and  considering 
substance  in  itself,  that  is  truly  (Defs.  iii.  and  vi.),  there  cannot 
be  conceived  one  substance  different  from  another,  —  that  is 
(by  Prop,  iv.),  there  cannot  be  granted  several  substances,  but 
one  substance  only.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  VI.  One  substance  cannot  be  produced  by  another  sub- 
stance. 

Proof.  —  It  is  impossible  that  there  should  be  in  the  universe 
two  substances  with  an  identical  attribute,  i.  e.  which  have 


THE  ETHICS  151 

anything  common  to  them  both  (Prop,  ii.),  and,  therefore 
(Prop,  iii.),  one  cannot  be  the  cause  of  another,  neither  can  one 
be  produced  by  the  other.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows  that  a  substance  cannot  be  pro- 
duced by  anything  external  to  itself.  For  in  the  universe  nothing 
is  granted,  save  substances  and  their  modifications  (as  appears 
from  Ax.  i.  and  Defs.  iii.  and  v.).  Now  (by  the  last  Prop.)  sub- 
stance cannot  be  produced  by  another  substance,  therefore  it 
cannot  be  produced  by  anything  external  to  itself.  Q.  E.  D. 
This  is  shown  still  more  readily  by  the  absurdity  of  the  contra- 
dictory. For,  if  substance  be  produced  by  an  external  cause,  the 
knowledge  of  it  would  depend  on  the  knowledge  of  its  cause 
(Ax.  iv.),  and  (by  Def.  iii.)  it  would  itself  not  be  substance. 

JPgop.  VTI^  Existence  belongs  to  the  nature  of  substance. 

Proof.  —  Substance  cannot  be  produced  by  anything  external 
(Corollary,  Prop,  vi.),  it  must,  therefore,  be  its  own  cause  — 
that  is,  its  essence  necessarily  involves  existence,  or  existence 
belongs  to  its  nature. 

PROP.  VIII.  Every  substance  is  necessarily  infinite. 

Proof.  —  There  can  only  be  one  substance  with  an  identical 
attribute,  and  existence  follows  from  its  nature  (Prop,  vii.) ;  its 
nature,  therefore,  involves  existence,  either  as  finite  or  infinite. 
It  does  not  exist  as  finite,  for  (by  Def.  ii.)  it  would  then  be 
limited  by  something  else  of  the  same  kind,  which  would  also 
necessarily  exist  (Prop,  vii.) ;  and  there  would  be  two  substances 
with  an  identical  attribute,  which  is  absurd  (Prop.  v.).  It  there- 
fore exists  as  infinite.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note  I.  —  As  finite  existence  involves  a  partial  negation,  and 
infinite  existence  is  the  absolute  affirmation  of  the  given  nature, 
it  follows  (solely  from  Prop,  vii.)  that  every  substance  is  neces- 
sarily infinite. 

PROP.  IX.  The  more  reality  or  being  a  thing  has  the  greater 
the  number  of  its  attributes  (Def.  iv.). 

PROP.  X.  Each  particular  attribute  of  the  one  substance  must 
be  conceived  through  itself. 

Proo],  —  An  attriV  it  which  the  ir/ujliujr  perceives  of 


1 52  SPINOZA 

substance,  as  constituting  its  essence  (Def.  iv.),  and,  therefore, 
must  be  conceived  through  itself  (Def.  iii.).  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XI.  God,  or  substance,  consisting  0}  infinite  attributes, 
oj  which  each  expresses  eternal  and  infinite  essentiality,  neces- 
sarily exists. 

Proof.  —  If  this  be  denied,  conceive,  if  possible,  that  God 
does  not  exist:  then  his  essence  does  not  involve  existence. 
But  this  (by  Prop,  vii.)  is  absurd.  Therefore  God  necessarily 
exists. 

PROP.  XII.  No  attribute  oj  substance  can  be  conceived  from 
which  it  would  jollow  that  substance  can  be  divided. 

Proof.  —  The  parts  into  which  substance  as  thus  conceived 
would  be  divided,  either  will  retain  the  nature  of  substance, 
or  they  will  not.  If  the  former,  then  (by  Prop,  viii.)  each  part 
will  necessarily  be  infinite,  and  (by  Prop,  vi.)  self-caused,  and 
(by  Prop,  v.)  will  perforce  consist  of  a  different  attribute,  so 
that,  in  that  case,  several  substances  could  be  formed  out  of 
one  substance,  which  (by  Prop,  vi.)  is  absurd.  Moreover,  the 
parts  (by  Prop,  ii.)  would  have  nothing  in  common  with  their 
whole,  and  the  whole  (by  Def.  iv.  and  Prop,  x.)  could  both  exist 
and  be.  conceived  without  its  parts,  which  everyone  will  admit 
to  be  absurd.  If  we  adopt  the  second  alternative  —  namely, 
that  the  parts  will  not  retain  the  nature  of  substance  —  then, 
if  the  whole  substance  were  divided  into  equal  parts,  it  would 
lose  the  nature  of  substance,  and  would  cease  to  exist,  which 
(by  Prop,  vii.)  is  absurd. 

PROP.  XIII.  Substance  absolutely  infinite  is  indivisible. 

Proof.  —  If  it  could  be  divided,  the  parts  into  which  it  was 
divided  would  either  retain  the  nature  of  absolutely  infinite 
substance,  or  they  would  not.  If  the  former,  we  should  have 
several  substances  of  the  same  nature,  which  (by  Prop,  v.)  is 
absurd.  If  the  latter,  then  (by  Prop,  vii.)  substance  absolutely 
infinite  could  cease  to  exist,  which  (by  Prop,  xi.)  is  also  absurd. 

Corollary.  —  It  follows,  that  no  substance,  and  consequently 
no  extended  substance,  in  so  far  as  it  is  substance,  is  divisible. 

Note.  —  The  indivisibility  of  substance  may  be  more  easily 
understood  as  follows.  The  nature  of  substance  can  only  be 


THE  ETHICS  153 

conceived  as  infinite,  and  by  a  part  of  substance,  nothing  else 
can  be  understood  than  finite  substance,  which  (by  Prop,  viii.) 
involves  a  manifest  contradiction. 

PROP.  XIV.  Besides  God  no  substance  can  be  granted  or  con- 
ceived. 

Prooj.  —  As  God  is  a  being  absolutely  infinite,  of  whom  no 
attribute  that  expresses  the  essence  of  substance  can  be  denied 
(by  Def.  vi.),  and  he  necessarily  exists  (by  Prop,  xi.);  if  any  sub- 
stance besides  God  were  granted,  it  would  have  to  be  explained 
by  some  attribute  of  God,  and  thus  two  substances  with  the 
same  attribute  would  exist,  which  (by  Prop,  v.)  is  absurd;  there- 
fore, besides  God  no  substance  can  be  granted,  or,  consequently, 
be  conceived.  If  it  could  be  conceived,  it  would  necessarily 
have  to  be  conceived  as  existent ;  but  this  (by  the  first  part  of  this 
proof)  is  absurd.  Therefore,  besides  God  no  substance  can  be 
jynmteo1  or  conceived.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary  I.  —  Clearly,  therefore:  i.  God  is  one,  that  is  (by 
Def.  vi.)  only  one  substance  can  be  granted  in  the  universe, 
and  that  substance  is  absolutely  infinite,  as  we  have  already 
indicated  (in  the  note  to  Prop.  x.). 

Corollary  II.  —  It  follows:  2.  That  extension  and  thought  are 
either  attributes  of  God  or  (by  Ax.  i.)  accidents  (affectiones)  of   \ 
the  attributes  of  God. 

PROP.  XV.  Whatsoever  is,  is  in  God,  and  without  God  nothing 
can  be.  or  be  conceived. 

Proof.  —  Besides  God,  no  substance  is  granted  or  can  be  con- 
ceived (by  Prop,  xiv.),  that  is  (by  Def.  iii.)  nothing  which  is  in 
itself  and  is  conceived  through  itself.  But  modes  (by  Def.  v.) 
can  neither  be,  nor  be  conceived  without  substance;  wherefore 
they  can  only  be  in  the  divine  nature,  and  can  only  through  it 
be  conceived.  But  substances  and  modes  form  the  sum  total  of 
existence  (by  Ax.  i.),  therefore,  without  God  nothing  can  be,  or 
be  conceived.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  Some  assert  that  God,  like  a  man,  consists  of  body 
and  mind,  and  is  susceptible  of  passions.  How  far  such  persons 
have  strayed  from  the  truth  is  sufficiently  evident  from  what  has 
been  said.  But  these  I  pass  over.  ...  I  myself  have  proved 


inv 


154  SPINOZA 

sufficiently  clearly,  at  any  rate  in  my  own  judgment  (Coroll. 
Prop,  vi.,  and  Note  2,  Prop,  viii.),  that  no  substance  can  be 
produced  or  created  by  anything  other  than  itself.  Further,  I 
showed  (in  Prop,  xiv.),  that  besides  God  no  substance  can  be 
granted  or  conceived.  Hence  we  drew  the  conclusion  that  ex- 
tended substance  is  one  of  the  infinite  attributes  of  God. 

PROP.  XVI.  From  the  necessity  oj  the  divine  nature  must  fol- 
low an  infinite  number  of  things  in  infinite  ways  —  that  is,  all 
things  which  can  fall  within  the  sphere  oj  infinite  intellect. 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  will  be  clear  to  everyone,  who 
remembers  that  from  the  given  definition  of  any  thing  the  intellect 
infers  several  properties,  which  really  necessarily  follow  there- 
from (that  is,  from  the  actual  essence  of  the  thing  defined) ;  and 
it  infers  more  properties  in  proportion  as  the  definition  of  the 
thing  expresses  more  reality,  that  isf  in  proportion  as  the  essence 
of  the  thing  defined  involves  more  reality.  Now,  as  the  divine 
nature  has  absolutely  infinite  attributes  (by  Def.  vi.),  of  which 
each  expresses  infinite  essence  after  its  kind,  it  follows  that  from 
the  necessity  of  its  nature  an  infinite  number  of  things  (that  is, 
everything  which  can  fall  within  the  sphere  of  an  infinite  intellect) 
must  necessarily  follow.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary  I.  —  Hence  it  follows,  that  God  is  the  efficient  cause 
of  all  that  can  fall  within  the  sphere  of  an  infinite  intellect. 

Corollary  II.  —  It  also  follows  that  God  is  a  cause  in  himself, 
and  not  through  an  accident  of  his  nature. 

Corollary  III.  —  It  follows,  thirdly,  that  God  is  the  absolutely 
first  cause. 

PROP.  XVII.  God  acts  solely  by  the  laws  of  his  own  nature,  and 
is  not  constrained  by  anyone. 

Proof.  —  We  have  just  shown  (in  Prop,  xvi.),  that  solely 
from  the  necessity  of  the  divine  nature,  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  solely  from  the  laws  of  his  nature,  an  infinite  number  of 
things  absolutely  follow  in  an  infinite  number  of  ways;  and  we 
proved  (in  Prop,  xv.),  that  without  God  nothing  can  be  nor  be 
conceived;  but  that  all  things  are  in  God.  Wherefore  nothing 
can  exist  outside  himself,  whereby  he  can  be  conditioned  or 


THE  ETHICS  155 

constrained  to  act.  Wherefore  God  acts  solely  by  the  laws  of 
his  own  nature,  and  is  not  constrained  by  anyone.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary  I.  —  It  follows:  i.  That  there  can  be  no  cause  which, 
either  extrinsically  or  intrinsically,  besides  the  perfection  of  his 
own  nature,  moves  God  to  act. 

Corollary  II.  —  It  follows:  2.  That  God  is  the  sole  free  cause. 
For  God  alone  exists  by  the  sole  necessity  of  his  nature  (by  Prop, 
xi.  and  Prop,  xiv.,  Coroll.  i.),  and  acts  by  the  sole  necessity  of  his 
nature,  wherefore  God  is  (by  Def.  vii.)  the  sole  free  cause.  Q.E.D. 

Note.  —  Others  think  that  God  is  a  free  cause,  because  he  can, 
as  they  think,  bring  it  about,  that  those  things  which  we  have 
said  follow  from  his  nature  —  that  is,  which  are  in  his  power, 
should  not  come  to  pass,  or  should  not  be  produced  by  him. 
But  this  is  the  same  as  if  they  said,  that  God  could  bring  it  about 
that  it  should  not  follow  from  the  nature  of  a  triangle,  that  its 
three  interior  angles  should  be  equal  to  two  right  angles;  or  that 
from  a  given  cause  no  effect  should  follow,  which  is  absurd. 

PROP.  XVIII.  God  is  the  indwelling  and  not  the  transient  cause 
of  all  things. 

Proof.  —  All  things  which  are,  are  in  God,  and  must  be  con- 
ceived through  God  (by  Prop,  xv.),  therefore  (by  Prop,  xvi., 
Coroll.  i.)  God  is.  the  cause  of  those  things  which  are  in  him. 
This  is  our  first  point.  Further,  besides  God  there  can  be  no 
substance  (by  Prop,  xiv.),  that  is  nothing  in  itself  external  to  God. 
This  is  our  second  point.  God,  therefore,  is  the  indwelling  and 
not  the  transient  cause  of  all  things.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XIX.  God,  and  all  the  attributes  of  God,  are  eternal. 

Proof.  —  God  (by  Def.  vi.)  is  substance,  which  (by  Prop,  xi.) 
necessarily  exists,  that  is  (by  Prop,  vii.)  existence  appertains  to 
its  nature,  or  (what  is  the  same  thing)  follows  from  its  definition; 
therefore,  God  is  eternal  (by  Def.  viii.).  Further,  by  the  attri- 
butes of  God  we  must  understand  that  which  (by  Def.  iv.)  ex- 
presses the  essence  of  the  divine  substance  —  in  other  words, 
that  which  appertains  to  substance:  that,  I  say,  should  be  in- 
volved in  the  attributes  of  substance.  Now  eternity  appertains 
to  the  nature  of.  substance  (as  I  have  already  shown  in  Prop. 


156  SPINOZA 

vii.) ;  therefore,  eternity  must  appertain  to  each  of  the  attributes, 
and  thus  are  all  eternal.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  This  proposition  is  also  evident  from  the  manner  in 
which  (in  Prop,  xi.)  I  demonstrated  the  existence  of  God;  it  is 
evident,  I  repeat,  from  that  proof,  that  the  existence  of  God,  like 
his  essence,  is  an  eternal  truth.  Further  (in  Prop.  xix.  of  my 
"Principles  of  the  Cartesian  Philosophy"),  I  have  proved  the 
eternity  of  God,  in  another  manner,  which  I  need  not  here  repeat. 

PROP.  XX.  The  existence  oj  God  and  his  essence  are  one  and 
the  same. 

Proof.  —  God  (by  the  last  Prop.)  and  all  his  attributes  are 
eternal,  that  is  (by  Def.  viii.)  each  of  his  attributes  expresses 
existence.  Therefore  the  same  attributes  of  God  which  explain 
his  eternal  essence,  explain  at  the  same  time  his  eternal  exist- 
ence —  in  other  words,  that  which  constitutes  God's  essence 
constitutes  at  the  same  time  his  existence.  Wherefore  God's 
existence  and  God's  essence  are  one  .and  the  same.  Q.  E.  D. 

Cor  oil.  I.  —  Hence  it  follows  that  God's  existence,  like  His 
essence,  is  an  eternal  truth. 

Coroll.  II.  —  Secondly,  it  follows  that  God,  and  all  the  attri- 
butes of  God,  are  unchangeable.  For  if  they  could  be  changed 
in  respect  to  existence,  they  must  also  be  able  to  be  changed  in 
respect  to  essence  —  that  is,  obviously,  be  changed  from  true  to 
false,  which  is  absurd. 

PROP.  XXI.  All  things  which  follow  from  the  absolute  nature 
of  any  attribute  oj  God  must  always  exist  and  be  infinite,  or,  in 
other  words,  are  eternal  and  infinite  through  the  said  attribute. 

Proof.  —  Conceive,  if  it  be  possible  (supposing  the  proposition 
to  be  denied),  that  something  in  some  attribute  of  God  can  follow 
from  the  absolute  nature  of  the  said  attribute,  and  that  at  the 
same  time  it  is  finite,  and  has  a  conditioned  existence  of  duration; 
for  instance,  the  idea  of  God  expressed  in  the  attribute  thought. 
Now  thought,  in  so  far  as  it  is  supposed  to  be  an  attribute  of 
God,  is  necessarily  (by  Prop,  xi.)  in  its  nature  infinite.  But,  in 
so  far  as  it  possesses  the  idea  of  God,  it  is  supposed  finite.  It 
cannot,  however,  be  conceived  as  finite,  unless  it  be  limited  by 
thought  (by  Def.  ii.);  but  it  is  not  limited  by  thought  itself,  in 


THE  ETHICS  157 

so  far  as  it  has  constituted  the  idea  of  God  (for  so  far  it  is  supposed 
to  be  finite);  therefore,  it  is  limited  by  thought,  in  so  far  as  it 
has  not  constituted  the  idea  of  God,  which  nevertheless  (by 
Prop,  xi.)  must  necessarily  exist. 

PROP.  XXII.  Whatsoever  follows  from  any  attribute  o)  God, 
in  so  far  as  it  is  modified  by  a  modification,  which  exists  neces- 
sarily and  as  infinite,  through  the  said  attribute,  must  also  exist 
necessarily  and  as  infinite. 

Proof.  —  The  proof  of  this  proposition  is  similar  to  that  of 
the  preceding  one. 

PROP.  XXIII.  Every  mode,  which  exists  both  necessarily  and 
as  infinite,  must  necessarily  follow  either  from  the  absolute  nature 
of  some  attribute  of  God,  or  from  an  attribute  modified  by  a  modifi- 
cation which  exists  necessarily,  and  as  infinite. 

Proof.  —  A  mode  exists  in  something  else,  through  which  it 
must  be  conceived  (Def.  v.),  that  is  (Prop,  xv.),  it  exists  solely 
in  God,  and  solely  through  God  can  be  conceived.  If  therefore 
a  mode  is  conceived  as  necessarily  existing  and  infinite,  it  must 
necessarily  be  inferred  or  perceived  through  some  attribute  of 
God,  in  so  far  as  such  attribute  is  conceived  as  expressing  the 
infinity  and  necessity  of  existence,  in  other  words  (Def.  viii.) 
eternity;  that  is,  in  so  far  as  it  is  considered  absolutely.  A  mode, 
therefore,  which  necessarily  exists  as  infinite,  must  follow  from 
the  absolute  nature  of  some  attribute  of  God,  either  immediately 
(Prop,  xxi.)  or  through  the  means  of  some  modification,  which 
follows  from  the  absolute  nature  of  the  said  attribute;  that  is 
(by  Prop,  xxii.),  which  exists  necessarily  and  as  infinite. 

PROP.  XXIV.  The  essence  of  things  produced  by  God  does  not 
involve  existence. 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  is  evident  from  Def.  i.  For  that  of 
which  the  nature  (considered  in  itself)  involves  existence  is  self- 
caused,  and  exists  by  the  sole  necessity  of  its  own  nature. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows  that  God  is  not  only  the  cause 
of  things  coming  into  existence,  but  also  of  their  continuing  in 
existence,  that  is,  in  scholastic  phraseology.  God  is  cause  of  the 
being  of  things  (essendi  rerum).  For  whether  things  exist,  or 


158  SPINOZA 

do  not  exist,  whenever  we  contemplate  their  essence,  we  see  that 
it  involves  neither  existence  nor  duration ;  consequently,  it  can- 
not be  the  cause  of  either  the  one  or  the  other.  God  must  be  the 
sole  cause,  inasmuch  as  to  him  alone  does  existence  appertain. 
(Prop.  xiv.  Coroll.  i.)  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXV.  God  is  the  efficient  cause  not  only  0}  the  existence 
of  things,  but  also  of  their  essence. 

Proof.  —  If  this  be  denied,  then  God  is  not  the  cause  of  the 
essence  of  things;  and  therefore  the  essence  of  things  can  (by 
Ax.  iv.)  be  conceived  without  God.  This  (by  Prop,  xv.)  is  ab- 
surd. Therefore,  God  is  the  cause  of  the  essence  of  things.  Q.E.D. 

Note.  —  This  proposition  follows  more  clearly  from  Prop, 
xvi.  For  it  is  evident  thereby  that,  given  the  divine  nature,  the 
essence  of  things  must  be  inferred  from  it,  no  less  than  their 
^existence —  in  a  word,  God  must  be  called  the  cause  of  all  things, 
in  the  same  sense  as  he  is  called  the  cause  of  himself.  This 
will  be  made  still  clearer  by  the  following  corollary. 

Corollary.  —  Individual  things  are  nothing  but  modifications 
of  the  attributes  of  God,  or  modes  by  which  the  attributes  of 
God  are  expressed  in  a  fixed  and  definite  manner.  The  proof 
appears  from  Prop.  xv.  and  Def.  v. 

PROP.  XXVI.  A  thing  which  is  conditioned  to  act  in  a  particular 
manner,  has  necessarily  been  thus  conditioned  by  God;  and  that 
which  has  not  been  conditioned  by  God  cannot  condition  itself  to 
act. 

Proof.  —  That  by  which  things  are  said  to  be  conditioned  to 
act  in  a  particular  manner  is  necessarily  something  positive 
(this  is  obvious) ;  therefore  both  of  its  essence  and  of  its  existence 
God  by  the  necessity  of  his  nature  is  the  efficient  cause  (Props. 
xxv.  and  xvi.) ;  this  is  our  first  point.  Our  second  point  is  plainly 
to  be  inferred  therefrom.  For  if  a  thing,  which  has  not  been  con- 
ditioned by  God,  could  condition  itself,  the  first  part  of  our  proof 
would  be  false,  and  this,  as  we  have  shown,  is  absurd. 

PROP.  XXVII.  A  thing,  which  has  been  conditioned  by  God 
to  act  in  a  particular  way,  cannot  render  itself  unconditioned. 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  is  evident  from  the  third  axiom. 

PROP.  XXVIII.  —  Every  individual  thing,  or  everything  which 


THE  ETHICS  159 

is  finite  and  has  a  conditioned  existence,  cannot  exist  or  be  con- 
ditioned to  act,  unless  it  be  conditioned  for  existence  and  action 
by  a  cause  other  than  itself,  -which  also  is  finite,  and  has  a  condi- 
tioned existence;  and  likewise  this  cause  cannot  in  its  turn  exist, 
or  be  conditioned  to  act,  unless  it  be  conditioned  for  existence  and 
action  by  another  cause,  which  also  is  finite,  and  has  a  conditioned 
existence,  and  so  on  to  infinity. 

Proof.  —  Whatsoever  is  conditioned  to  exist  and  act,  has  been 
thus  conditioned  by  God  (by  Prop.  xxvi.  and  Prop,  xxiv., 

CorolL). 

But  that  which  is  finite,  and  has  a  conditioned  existence,  can- 
not be  produced  by  the  absolute  nature  of  any  attribute  of  God ; 
for  whatsoever  follows  from  the  absolute  nature  of  any  attribute 
of  God  is  infinite  and  eternal  (by  Prop.  xxi.).  It  must,  therefore, 
follow  from  some  attribute  of  God,  in  so  far  as  the  said  attribute 
is  considered  as  in  some  way  modified ;  for  substance  and  modes 
make  up  the  sum  total  of  existence  (by  Ax.  i.  and  Def.  iii.,  v.), 
while  modes  are  merely  modifications  of  the  attributes  of  God. 
But  from  God,  or  from  any  of  his  attributes,  in  so  far  as  the  latter 
is  modified  by  a  modification  infinite  and  eternal,  a  conditioned 
thing  cannot  follow.  Wherefore  it  must  follow  from,  or  be  con- 
ditioned for,  existence  and  action  by  God  or  one  of  his  attributes, 
in  so  far  as  the  latter  are  modified  by  some  modification  which  is 
finite,  and  has  a  conditioned  existence.  This  is  our  first  point. 
Again,  this  cause  or  this  modification  (for  the  reason  by  which 
we  established  the  first  part  of  this  proof)  must  in  its  turn  be 
conditioned  by  another  cause,  which  also  is  finite,  and  has  a 
conditioned  existence,  and,  again,  this  last  by  another  (for  the 
same  reason) ;  and  so  on  (for  the  same  reason)  to  infinity.  Q.E.D. 

PROP.  XXIX.  Nothing  in  the  universe  is  contingent,  but  all 
things  are  conditioned  to  exist  and  operate  in  a  particular  manner 
by  the  necessity  of  the  divine  nature. 

Proof.  —  Whatsoever  is,  is  in  God  (Prop.  xv.).  But  God  can- 
not be  called  a  thing  contingent.  For  (by  Prop,  xi.)  he  exists 
necessarily,  and  not  contingently.  Further,  the  modes  of  the 
divine  nature  follow  therefrom  necessarily,  and  not  contingently 
(Prop,  xvi.) ;  and  they  thus  follow,  whether  we  consider  the  divine 


160  SPINOZA 

nature  absolutely,  or  whether  we  consider  it  as  in  any  way  con- 
ditioned to  act  (Prop,  xxvii.).  Further,  God  is  not  only  the  cause 
of  these  modes,  in  so  far  as  they  simply  exist  (by  Prop,  xxiv., 
Coroll.),  but  also  in  so  far  as  they  are  considered  as  conditioned 
for  operating  in  a  particular  manner  (Prop.  xxvi.).  If  they  be 
not  conditioned  by  God  (Prop,  xxvi.),  it  is  impossible,  and  not 
contingent,  that  they  should  condition  themselves;  contrariwise, 
if  they  be  conditioned  by  God,  it  is  impossible,  and  not  contingent, 
that  they  should  render  themselves  unconditioned.  Wherefore 
all  things  are  conditioned  by  the  necessity  of  the  divine  nature, 
not  only  to  exist,  but  also  to  exist  and  operate  in  a  particular  man- 
ner, and  there  is  nothing  that  is  contingent.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  Before  going  any  further,  I  wish  here  to  explain, 
what  we  should  understand  by  nature  viewed  as  active  (natura 
naturans),  and  nature  viewed  as  passive  (natura  naturata).  I 
say  to  explain,  or  rather  call  attention  to  it,  for  I  think  that,  from 
what  has  been  said,  it  is  sufficiently  clear,  that  by  nature  viewed 
as  active  we  should  understand  that  which  is  in  itself,  and  is 
conceived  through  itself,  or  those  attributes  of  substance,  which 
express  eternal  and  infinite  essence,  in  other  words  (Prop,  xiv., 
Coroll.  i.,  and  Prop,  xvii.,  Coroll.  ii.)  God,  in  so  far  as  he  is 
considered  as  a  free  cause. 

By  nature  viewed  as  passive  I  understand  all  that  which  fol- 
lows from  the  necessity  of  the  nature  of  God,  or  of  any  of  the 
attributes  of  God,  that  is,  all  the  modes  of  the  attributes  of  God, 
in  so  far  as  they  are  considered  as  things  which  are  in  God,  and 
which  without  God  cannot  exist  or  be  conceived. 

PROP.  XXX.  Intellect,  in  junction  (actu)  finite,  or  in  junction 
infinite,  must  comprehend  the  attributes  oj  God  and  the  modifica- 
tions of  God,  and  nothing  else. 

Proof.  —  A  true  idea  must  agree  with  its  object  (Ax.  vi.) ;  in 
other  words  (obviously),  that  which  is  contained  in  the  intellect 
in  representation  must  necessarily  be  granted  in  nature.  But  in 
nature  (by  Prop,  xiv.,  Coroll.  i.)  there  is  no  substance  save  God, 
nor  any  modifications  save  those  (Prop,  xv.)  which  are  in  God, 
and  cannot  without  God  either  be  or  be  conceived.  Therefore 
the  intellect,  in  function  finite,  or  in  function  infinite,  must  com- 


THE  ETHICS  161 

prehend  the  attributes  of  God  and  the  modifications  of  God,  and 
nothing  else.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXI.  The  intellect  in  junction,  whether  finite  or  infi- 
nite, as  will,  desire,  love,  &°c.,  should  be  referred  to  passive  nature 
and  not  to  active  nature. 

Proof.  —  By  the  intellect  we  do  not  (obviously)  mean  absolute 
thought,  but  only  a  certain  mode  of  thinking,  differing  from  other 
modes,  such  as  love,  desire,  &c.,  and  therefore  (Def.  v.)  requiring 
to  be  conceived  through  absolute  thought.  It  must  (by  Prop, 
xv.  and  Def.  vi.),  through  some  attribute  of  God  which  expresses 
the  eternal  and  infinite  essence  of  thought,  be  so  conceived,  that 
without  such  attribute  it  could  neither  be  nor  be  conceived.  It 
must  therefore  be  referred  to  nature  passive  rather  than  to  nature 
active,  as  must  also  the  other  modes  of  thinking.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXII.  Will  cannot  be  called  a  free  cause,  but  only  a 
necessary  cause. 

Proof.  —  Will  is  only  a  particular  mode  of  thinking,  like  in- 
tellect; therefore  (by  Prop,  xxviii.)  no  volition  can  exist,  nor  be 
conditioned  to  act,  unless  it  be  conditioned  by  some  cause  other 
than  itself,  which  cause  is  conditioned  by  a  third  cause,  and  so 
on  to  infinity.  But  if  will  be  supposed  infinite,  it  must  also  be 
conditioned  to  exist  and  act  by  God,  not  by  virtue  of  his  being 
substance  absolutely  infinite,  but  by  virtue  of  his  possessing 
an  attribute  which  expresses  the  infinite  and  eternal  essence 
of  thought  (by  Prop,  xxiii.).  Thus,  however  it  be  conceived, 
whether  as  finite  or  infinite,  it  requires  a  cause  by  which  it  should 
be  conditioned  to  exist  and  act.  Thus  (Def.  vii.)  it  cannot  be 
called  a  free  cause,  but  only  a  necessary  or  constrained  cause. 
Q.  E.  D. 

Coroll.  I.  —  Hence  it  follows,  first,  that  God  does  not  act 
according  to  freedom  of  the  will. 

Coroll.  II.  —  It  follows,  secondly,  that  will  and  intellect 
stand  in  the  same  relation  to  the  nature  of  God  as  do  motion, 
and  rest,  and  absolutely  all  natural  phenomena,  which  must  be 
conditioned  by  God  (Prop,  xxix.)  to  exist  and  act  in  a  particular 
manner.  For  will,  like  the  rest,  stands  in  need  of  a  cause,  by 
which  it  is  conditioned  to  exist  and  act  in  a  particular  manner. 


1 62  SPINOZA 

And  although,  when  will  or  intellect  be  granted,  an  infinite  num- 
ber of  results  may  follow,  yet  God  cannot  on  that  account  be 
said  to  act  from  freedom  of  the  will,  any  more  than  the  infinite 
number  of  results  from  motion  and  rest  would  justify  us  in 
saying  that  motion  and  rest  act  by  free  will.  Wherefore  will  no 
more  appertains  to  God  than  does  anything  else  in  nature,  but 
stands  in  the  same  relation  to  him  as  motion,  rest,  and  the  like, 
which  we  have  shown  to  follow  from  the  necessity  of  the  divine 
nature,  and  to  be  conditioned  by  it  to  exist  and  act  in  a  particular 
manner. 

PROP.  XXXIII.  Things  could  not  have  been  brought  into 
being  by  God  in  any  manner  or  in  any  order  different  from  that 
which  has  in  fact  obtained. 

Proof.  —  All  things  necessarily  follow  from  the  nature  of  God 
(Prop,  xvi.),  and  by  the  nature  of  God  are  conditioned  to  exist 
and  act  in  a  particular  way  (Prop.  xxix.).  If  things,  therefore, 
could  have  been  of  a  different  nature,  or  have  been  conditioned 
to  act  in  a  different  way,  so  that  the  order  of  nature  would  have 
been  different,  God's  nature  would  also  have  been  able  to  be 
different  from  what  it  now  is;  and  therefore  (by  Prop,  xi.)  that 
different  nature  also  would  have  perforce  existed,  and  conse- 
quently there  would  have  been  able  to  be  two  or  more  Gods. 
This  (by  Prop,  xiv.,  Coroll.  i.)  is  absurd.  Therefore  things  could 
not  have  been  brought  into  being  by  God  in  any  other  manner, 
&c.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note  I.  —  As  I  have  thus  shown,  more  clearly  than  the  sun 
at  noonday,  that  there  is  nothing  to  justify  us  in  calling  things 
contingent,  I  wish  to  explain  briefly  what  meaning  we  shall  at- 
tach to  the  word  contingent;  but  I  will  first  explain  the  words 
necessary  and  impossible. 

A  thing  is  called  necessary  either  in  respect  to  its  essence  or 
in  respect  to  its  cause;  for  the  existence  of  a  thing  necessarily 
follows,  either  from  its  essence  and  definition,  or  from  a  given 
efficient  cause.  For  similar  reasons  a  thing  is  said  to  be  impos- 
sible ;  namely,  inasmuch  as  its  essence  or  definition  involves  a 
contradiction,  or  because  no  external  cause  is  granted,  which 
is  conditioned  to  produce  such  an  effect;  but  a  thing  can  in  no 


THE  ETHICS  163 

respect  be  called  contingent,  save  in  relation  to  the  imperfection 
of  our  knowledge. 

A  thing  of  which  we  do  not  know  whether  the  essence  does  or 
does  not  involve  a  contradiction,  or  of  which,  knowing  that  it 
does  not  involve  a  contradiction,  we  are  still  in  doubt  concerning 
the  existence,  because  the  order  of  causes  escapes  us  —  such  a 
thing,  I  say,  cannot  appear  to  us  either  necessary  or  impossible. 
Wherefore  we  call  it  contingent  or  possible. 

PROP.  XXXIV.  God's  power  is  identical  with  his  essence. 

Proof.  —  From  the  sole  necessity  of  the  essence  of  God  it 
follows  that  God  is  the  cause  of  himself  (Prop,  xi.)  and  of  all 
things  (Prop.  xvi.  and  Coroll.).  Wherefore  the  power  of  God, 
by  which  he  and  all  things  are  and  act,  is  identical  with  his 
essence.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXV.  Whatsoever  we  conceive  to  be  in  the  power  of 
God,  necessarily  exists. 

Proof. — Whatsoever  is  in  God's  power,  must  (by  the  last 
Prop.)  be  comprehended  in  his  essence  in  such  a  manner,  that 
it  necessarily  follows  therefrom,  and  therefore  necessarily  ex- 
ists. Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXVI.  There  is  no  cause  from  whose  nature  some 
effect  does  not  follow. 

Proof.  —  Whatsoever  exists  expresses  God's  nature  or  essence 
in  a  given  conditioned  manner  (by  Prop.  xxv.  Coroll.) ;  that  is  (by 
Prop,  xxxiv.),  whatsoever  exists,  expresses  in  a  given  conditioned 
manner  God's  power,  which  is  the  cause  of  all  things,  therefore 
an  effect  must  (by  Prop,  xvi.)  necessarily  follow.  Q.  E.  D. 

APPENDIX.  —  In  the  foregoing  I  have  explained  the  nature 
and  properties  of  God.  I  have  shown  that  he  necessarily  exists, 
that  he  is  one :  that  he  is,  and  acts  solely  by  the  necessity  of  his 
own  nature ;  that  he  is  the  free  cause  of  all  things,  and  how  he  is 
so ;  that  all  things  are  in  God,  and  so  depend  on  him,  that  without 
him  they  could  neither  exist  nor  be  conceived;  lastly,  that  all 
things  are  predetermined  by  God,  not  through  his  free  will  or 
absolute  fiat,  but  from  the  very  nature  of  God  or  infinite  power. 


164  SPINOZA 

I  have  further,  where  occasion  offered,  taken  care  to  remove 
the  prejudices,  which  might  impede  the  comprehension  of  my 
demonstrations.  Yet  there  still  remain  misconceptions  not  a  few, 
which  might  and  may  prove  very  grave  hindrances  to  the  under- 
standing of  the  concatenation  of  things,  as  I  have  explained  it 
above.  I  have  therefore  thought  it  worth  while  to  bring  these 
misconceptions  before  the  bar  of  reason. 

All  such  opinions  spring  from  the  notion  commonly  enter- 
tained, that  all  things  in  nature  act  as  men  themselves  act, 
namely,  with  an  end  in  view.  It  is  accepted  as  certain,  that  God 
himself  directs  all  things  to  a  definite  goal  (for  it  is  said  that  God 
made  all  things  for  man,  and  man  that  he  might  worship  him). 
I  will,  therefore,  consider,  this  opinion,  asking  first  why  it  ob- 
tains general  credence,  and  why  all  men  are  naturally  so  prone 
to  adopt  it?  secondly,  I  will  point  out  its  falsity;  and,  lastly,  I 
will  show  how  it  has  given  rise  to  prejudices  about  good  and  bad, 
right  and  wrong,  praise  and  blame,  order  and  confusion,  beauty 
and  ugliness,  and  the  like.  However,  this  is  not  the  place  to 
deduce  these  misconceptions  from  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind:  it  will  be  sufficient  here,  if  I  assume  as  a  starting  point, 
what  ought  to  be  universally  admitted,  namely,  that  all  men  are 
born  ignorant  of  the  causes  of  things,  that  all  have  the  desire 
to  seek  for  what  is  useful  to  them,  and  that  they  are  conscious 
of  such  desire.  Herefrom  it  follows,  first,  that  men  think  them- 
selves free  inasmuch  as  they  are  conscious  of  their  volitions  and 

^desires,  and  never  even  dream,  in  their  ignorance,  of  the  causes 
which  have  disposed  them  so  to  wish  and  desire.  Secondly,  that 
men  do  all  things  for  an  end,  namely,  for  that  which  is  useful 

_to  them,  and  which  they  seek.  Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that  they 
only  look  for  a  knowledge  of  the  final  causes  of  events,  and  when 
these  are  learned,  they  are  content,  as  having  no  cause  for  further 
doubt.  If  they  cannot  learn  such  causes  from  external  sources, 
they  are  compelled  to  turn  to  considering  themselves,  and  reflect- 
ing what  end  would  have  induced  them  personally  to  bring  about 
the  given  event,  and  thus  they  necessarily  judge  other  natures  by 
their  own.  Further,  as  they  find  in  themselves  and  outside  them- 
selves many  means  which  assist  them  not  a  little  in  their  search 


THE  ETHICS  165 

for  what  is  useful,  for  instance,  eyes  for  seeing,  teeth  for  chewing, 
herbs  and  animals  for  yielding  food,  the  sun  for  giving  light,  the 
sea  for  breeding  fish,  &c.,  they  come  to  look  on  the  whole  of 
nature  as  a  means  for  obtaining  such  conveniences.  Now  as  they 
are  aware,  that  they  found  these  conveniences  and  did  not  make 
them,  they  think  they  have  cause  for  believing,  that  some  other 
being  has  made  them  for  their  use.  As  they  look  upon  things  as 
means,  they  cannot  believe  them  to  be  self-created;  but,  judging 
from  the  means  which  they  are  accustomed  to  prepare  for  them- 
selves, they  are  bound  to  believe  in  some  ruler  or  rulers  of  the 
universe  endowed  with  human  freedom,  who  have  arranged  and 
adapted  everything  for  human  use.  They  are  bound  to  estimate 
the  nature  of  such  rulers  (having  no  information  on  the  subject) 
in  accordance  with  their  own  nature,  and  therefore  they  assert 
that  the  gods  ordained  everything  for  the  use  of  man,  in  order 
to  bind  man  to  themselves  and  obtain  from  him  the  highest 
honour.  Hence  also  it  follows,  that  everyone  thought  out  for 
himself,  according  to  his  abilities,  a  different  way  of  worshipping 
God,  so  that  God  might  love  him  more  than  his  fellows,  and 
direct  the  whole  course  of  nature  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  blind 
cupidity  and  insatiable  avarice.  Thus  the  prejudice  developed 
into  superstition,  and  took  deep  root  in  the  human  mind;  and 
for  this  reason  everyone  strove  most  zealously  to  understand 
and  explain  the  final  causes  of  things;  but  in  their  endeavour 
to  show  that  nature  does  nothing  in  vain,  i.  e.,  nothing  which  is 
useless  to  man,  they  only  seem  to  have  demonstrated  that  nature, 
the  gods,  and  men  are  all  mad  together.  Consider,  I  pfay  you, 
the  result :  among  the  many  helps  of  nature  they  were  bound  to 
find  some  hindrances,  such  as  storms,  earthquakes,  diseases,  &c. : 
so  they  declared  that  such  things  happen,  because  the  gods  are 
angry  at  some  wrong  done  them  by  men,  or  at  some  fault  com- 
mitted in  their  worship.  Experience  day  by  day  protested  and 
showed  by  infinite  examples,  that  good  and  evil  fortunes  fall  to 
the  lot  of  pious  and  impious  alike;  still  they  would  not  abandon 
their  inveterate  prejudice,  for  it  was  more  easy  for  them  to  class 
such  contradictions  among  other  unknown  things  of  whose  use 
they  were  ignorant,  and  thus  to  retain  their  actual  and  innate 


1 66  SPINOZA 

condition  of  ignorance,  than  to  destroy  the  whole  fabric  of  their 
reasoning  and  start  afresh.  They  therefore  laid  down  as  an 
axiom,  that  God's  judgments  far  transcend  human  understand- 
ing. Such  a  doctrine  might  well  have  sufficed  to  conceal  the 
truth  from  the  human  race  for  all  eternity,  if  <  mathematics  had 
not  furnished  another  standard  of  verity  in  considering  solely 
the  essence  and  properties  of  figures  without  regard  to  their  final 
causes.  There  are  other  reasons  (which  I  need  not  mention  here) 
besides  mathematics,  which  might  have  caused  men's  minds  to 
be  directed  to  these  general  prejudices,  and  have  led  them  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth. 

I  have  now  sufficiently  explained  my  first  point.  There  is  no 
need  to  show  at  length,  that  nature  has  no  particular  goal  in 
view,  and  that  final  causes  are  mere  human  figments.  This,  I 
think,  is  already  evident  enough,  both  from  the  causes  and  foun- 
dations on  which  I  have  shown  such  prejudice  to  be  based,  and 
also  from  Prop,  xvi.,  and  the  Corollary  of  Prop,  xxxii.,  and,  in 
fact,  all  those  propositions  in  which  I  have  shown,  that  every- 
thing in  nature  proceeds  from  a  sort  of  necessity,  and  with  the 
utmost  perfection.  .  .  . 


PART  II.  — OF  THE  NATURE  AND  ORIGIN  OF 
THE   MIND 

PREFACE 

I  now  pass  on  to  explaining  the  results, which  must  necessarily 
follow  from  the  essence  of  God,  or  of  the  eternal  and  infinite  be- 
ing; not,  indeed,  all  of  them  (for  we  proved  in  Part  i.,  Prop,  xvi., 
that  an  infinite  number  must  follow  in  an  infinite  number  of  ways), 
but  only  those  which  are  able  to  lead  us,  as  it  were  by  the  hand, 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  human  mind  and  its  highest  blessedness. 

DEFINITIONS 

I.  By  body  I  mean  a  mode  which  expresses  in  a  certain  de- 
terminate manner  the  essence  of  God,  in  so  far  as  he  is  consid- 
ered as  an  extended  thing.  (See  Pt.  i.,  Prop,  xxv.,  Coroll.) 


THE  ETHICS  167 

II.  I  consider  as  belonging  to  the  essence  of  a  thing  that, 
which  being  given,  the  thing  is  necessarily  given  also,  and,  which 
being  removed,  the  thing  is  necessarily  removed  also;  in  other 
words,  that  without  which  the  thing,  and  which  itself  without 
the  thing,  can  neither  be  nor  be  conceived. 

III.  By  idea,  I  mean  the  mental  conception  which  is  formed 
by  the  mind  as  a  thinking  thing. 

Explanation.  —  I  say  conception  rather  than  perception, 
because  the  word  perception  seems  to  imply  that  the  mind  is 
passive  in  respect  to  the  object;  whereas  conception  seems  to 
express  an  activity  of  the  mind. 

IV.  By  an  adequate  idea,  I  mean  an  idea  which,  in  so  far  as 
it  is  considered  in  itself,  without  relation  to  the  object,  has  all 
the  properties  or  intrinsic  marks  of  a  true  idea. 

Explanation.  —  I  say  intrinsic,  in  order  to  exclude  that  mark 
which  is  extrinsic,  namely,  the  agreement  between  the  idea  and 
its  object  (ideatum). 

V.  Duration  is  the  indefinite  continuance  of  existing. 

Explanation.  —  I  say  indefinite,  because  it  cannot  be  deter- 
mined through  the  existence  itself  of  the  existing  thing,  or  by 
its  efficient  cause,  which  necessarily  gives  the  existence  of  the 
thing,  but  does  not  take  it  away. 

VI.  Reality  and  perfection  I  use  as  synonymous  terms. 

VII.  By  particular  things,  I  mean  things  which  are  finite  and 
have  a  conditioned  existence;  but  if  several  individual  things 
concur  in  one  action,  so  as  to  be  all  simultaneously  the  effect  of 
one  cause,  I  consider  them  all,  so  far,  as  one  particular  thing. 

AXIOMS 

I.  The  essence  of  man  does  not  involve  necessary  existence, 
that  is,  it  may,  in  the  order  of  nature,  come  to  pass  that  this  or 
that  man  does  or  does  not  exist. 

II.  .Man  thinks. 

III.  Modes  of  thinking,  such  as  love,  desire,  or  any  other  of 
the  passions,  do  not  take  place,  unless  there  be  in  the  same 
individual  an  idea  of  the  thing  loved,  desired,  &c.  But  the  idea 
can  exist  without  the  presence  of  any  other  mode  of  thinking. 


1 68  SPINOZA 

IV.  We  perceive  that  a  certain  body  is  affected  in  many  ways. 

V.  We  feel  and  perceive  no  particular  things,  save  bodies  and 
modes  of  thought. 

N.  B.  The  postulates  are  given  after  the  conclusion  of  Prop.  xiii. 

PROPOSITIONS 

PROP.  I.  Thought  is  an  attribute  of  God,  or  God  is  a  thinking 
thing. 

Proof.  —  Particular  thoughts,  or  this  or  that  thought,  are  modes 
which,  in  a  certain  conditioned  manner,  express  the  nature  of 
God  (Pt.  i.,  Prop,  xxv.,  Coroll.).  God  therefore  possesses  the 
attribute  (Pt.  i.,  Def.  v.)  of  which  the  concept  is  involved  in  all 
particular  thoughts,  which  latter  are  conceived  thereby.  Thought, 
therefore,  is  one  of  the  infinite  attributes  of  God,  which  express 
God's  eternal  and  infinite  essence  (Pt.  i.,  Def.  vi.).  In  other 
words,  God  is  a  thinking  thing.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  This  proposition  is  also  evident  from  the  fact,  that 
we  are  able  to  conceive  an  infinite  thinking  being.  For,  in  pro- 
portion as  a  thinking  being  is  conceived  as  thinking  more 
thoughts,  so  is  it  conceived  as  containing  more  reality  or  perfec- 
tion. Therefore  a  being,  which  can  think  an  infinite  number  of 
things  in  an  infinite  number  of  ways,  is,  necessarily,  in  respect 
of  thinking,  infinite.  As,  therefore,  from  the  consideration  of 
thought  alone  we  conceive  an  infinite  being,  thought  is  necessarily 
(Pt.  i.,  Defs.  iv.  and  vi.)  one  of  the  infinite  attributes  of  God,  as 
we  were  desirous  of  showing. 

PROP.  II.  Extension  is  an  attribute  of  God,  or  God  is  an  ex- 
tended thing. 

Proof.  —  The  proof  of  this  proposition  is  similar  to  that  of 
the  last. 

PROP.  III.  In  God  there  is  necessarily  the  idea  not  only  of  his 
essence,  but  also  of  all  things  which  necessarily  follow  from  his 
essence. 

Proof.  —  God  (by  the  first  Prop,  of  this  Part)  can  think  an 
infinite  number  of  things  in  infinite  ways,  or  (what  is  the  same 
thing,  by  Prop,  xvi.,  Part  i.)  can  form  the  idea  of  his  essence,  and 
of  all  things  which  necessarily  follow  therefrom.  Now  all  that 


THE  ETHICS  169 

is  in  the  power  of  God  necessarily  is  (Pt.  i.,  Prop.  xxxv).  There- 
fore, such  an  idea  as  we  are  considering  necessarily  is,  and  in 
God  alone.  Q.  E.  D.  (Part  i.,  Prop,  xv.) 

Note.  —  The  multitude  understand  by  the  power  of  God  the 
free  will  of  God,  and  the  right  over  all  things  that  exist,  which 
latter  are  accordingly  generally  considered  as  contingent.  For 
it  is  said  that  God  has  the  power  to  destroy  all  things,  and  to 
reduce  them  to  nothing.  Further,  the  power  of  God  is  very  often 
likened  to  the  power  of  kings.  But  this  doctrine  we  have  refuted 
(Pt.  i.,  Prop,  xxxii.,  Corolls.  i.  and  ii.),  and  we  have  shown  (Part 
i.,  Prop,  xvi.)  that  God  acts  by  the  same  necessity,  as  that  by 
which  he  understands  himself;  in  other  words,  as  it  follows 
from  the  necessity  of  the  divine  nature  (as  all  admit),  that  God 
understands  himself,  so  also  does  it  follow  by  the  same  neces- 
sity that  God  performs  infinite  acts  in  infinite  ways.  We  further 
showed  (Part  i.,  Prop,  xxxiv.),  that  God's  power  is  identical  with 
God's  essence  in  action;  therefore  it  is  as  impossible  for  us  to 
conceive  God  as  not  acting,  as  to  conceive  him  as  non-existent. 
If  we  might  pursue  the  subject  further,  I  could  point  out,  that 
the  power  which  is  commonly  attributed  to  God  is  not  only 
human  (as  showing  that  God  is  conceived  by  the  multitude  as  a 
man,  or  in  the  likeness  of  a  man),  but  involves  a  negation  of 
power.  However,  I  am  unwilling  to  go  over  the  same  ground  so 
often.  I  would  only  beg  the  reader  again  and  again,  to  turn  over 
frequently  in  his  mind  what  I  have  said  in  Part  i.  from  Prop.  xvi. 
to  the  end.  No  one  will  be  able  to  follow  rny  meaning,  unless  he 
is  scrupulously  careful  not  to  confound  the  power  of  God  with 
the  human  power  and  right  of  kings. 

PROP.  IV.  The  idea  of  God,  from  which  an  infinite  number 
oj  things  follow  in  infinite  ways,  can  only  be  one. 

Proof.  —  Infinite  intellect  comprehends  nothing  save  the 
attributes  of  God  and  his  modifications  (Part  i.,  Prop.  xxx.). 
Now  God  is  one  (Part  i.,  Prop,  xiv.,  Coroll.).  Therefore  the  idea 
of  God,  wherefrom  an  infinite  number  of  things  follow  in  infinite 
ways,  can  only  be  one.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  V.  The  actual  being  of  ideas  owns  God  as  its  cause, 
only  in  so  jar  as  he  is  considered  as  a  thinking  thing,  not  in  so  far 


1 7o  SPINOZA 

as  he  is  unfolded  in  any  other  attribute;  that  is,  the  ideas  both  oj 
the  attributes  oj  God  and  of  particular  things  do  not  own  as  their 
efficient  cause  their  objects  (ideata)  or  the  things  perceived,  but 
God  himself  in  so  jar  as  he  is  a  thinking  thing. 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  is  evident  from  Prop.  iii.  of  this 
Part.  We  there  drew  the  conclusion,  that  God  can  form  the  idea 
of  his  essence,  and  of  all  things  which  follow  necessarily  there- 
from, solely  because  he  is  a  thinking  thing,  and  not  because  he 
is  the  object  of  his  own  idea.  Wherefore  the  actual  being  of  ideas 
owns  for  cause  God,  in  so  far  as  he  is  a  thinking  thing.  It  may  be 
differently  proved  as  follows:  the  actual  being  of  ideas  is  (obvi- 
ously) a  mode  of  thought,  that  is  (Part  L,  Prop,  xxv.,  Coroll.)  a 
mode  which  expresses  in  a  certain  manner  the  nature  of  God, 
in  so  far  as  he  is  a  thinking  thing,  and  therefore  (Part  i.,  Prop,  x.) 
involves  the  conception  of  no  other  attribute  of  God,  and  conse- 
quently (by  Part  i.,  Ax.  iv.)  is  not  the  effect  of  any  attribute  save 
thought.  Therefore  the  actual  being  of  ideas  owns  God  as  its 
cause,  in  so  far  as  he  is  considered  as  a  thinking  thing,  &c.  Q.E.D. 

PROP.  VI.  The  modes  of  any  given  attribute  are  caused  by  God, 
in  so  jar  as  he  is  considered  through  the  attribute  oj  which  they 
are  modes,  and  not  in  so  jar  as  he  is  considered  through  any  other 
attribute. 

Proof.  —  Each  attribute  is  conceived  through  itself,  without 
any  other  (Part  i.,  Prop,  x.) ;  wherefore  the  modes  of  each  attri- 
bute involve  the  conception  of  that  attribute,  but  not  of  any  other. 
Thus  (Part  i.,  Ax.  iv.)  they  are  caused  by  God,  only  in  so  far  as 
he  is  considered  through  the  attribute  whose  modes  they  are,  and 
not  in  so  far  as  he  is  considered  through  any  other.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  the  actual  being  of  things,  which  are  not 
modes  of  thought,  does  not  follow  from  the  divine  nature,  because 
that  nature  has  prior  knowledge  of  the  things.  Things  repre- 
sented in  ideas  follow,  and  are  derived  from  their  particular 
attribute,  in  the  same  manner,  and  with  the  same  necessity 
as  ideas  follow  (according  to  what  we  have  shown)  from  the 
attribute  of  thought. 

PROP.  VII.  The  order  and  connection  oj  ideas  is  the  same  as  the 
order  and  connnection  oj  things. 


.THE  ETHICS  171 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  is  evident  from  Part  i.,  Ax.  iv.  For 
the  idea  of  everything  that  is  caused  depends  on  a  knowledge  of 
the  cause,  whereof  it  is  an  effect. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  God's  power  of  thinking  is  equal  to  his 
realized  power  of  action  —  that  is,  whatsoever  follows  from  the 
infinite  nature  of  God  in  the  world  of  extension  (jormaliter), 
follows  without  exception  in  the  same  order  and  connection  from 
the  idea  of  God  in  the  world  of  thought  (objective). 

Note.  —  Before  going  any  further,  I  wish  to  recall  to  mind 
what  has  been  pointed  out  above  —  namely,  that  whatsoever 
can  be  perceived  by  the  infinite  intellect  as  constituting  the 
essence  of  substance,  belongs  altogether  only  to  one  substance: 
consequently,  substance  thinking  and  substance  extended  are 
one  and  the  same  substance,  comprehended  now  through  one 
attribute,  now  through  the  other.  So,  also,  a  mode  of  extension 
and  the  idea  of  that  mode  are  one  and  the  same  thing,  though 
expressed  in  two  ways.  This  truth  seems  to  have  been  dimly 
recognized  by  those  Jews  who  maintained  that  God,  God's 
intellect,  and  the  things  understood  by  God  are  identical.  For 
instance,  a  circle  existing  in  nature,  and  the  idea  of  a  circle  exist- 
ing, which  is  also  in  God,  are  one  and  the  same  thing  displayed 
through  different  attributes.  Thus,  whether  we  conceive  nature 
under  the  attribute  of  extension,  or  under  the  attribute  of  thought, 
or  under  any  other  attribute,  we  shall  find  the  same  order,  or  one 
and  the  same  chain  of  causes  —  that  is,  the  same  things  following 
in  either  case. 

I  said  that  God  is  the  cause  of  an  idea,  —  for  instance,  of  the 
idea  of  a  circle,  —  in  so  far  as  he  is  a  thinking  thing;  and  of  a 
circle,  in  so  far  as  he  is  an  extended  thing,  simply  because  the 
actual  being  of  the  idea  of  a  circle  can  only  be  perceived  as  a  prox- 
imate cause  through  another  mode  of  thinking,  and  that  again 
through  another,  and  so  on  to  infinity;  so  that,  so  long  as  we  con- 
sider things  as  modes  of  thinking,  we  must  explain  the  order  of 
the  whole  of  nature,  or  the  whole  chain  of  causes,  through  the  ? 
attribute  of  thought  only.  And,  in  so  far  as  we  consider  things 
as  modes  of  extension,  we  must  explain  the  order  of  the  whole 
of  nature  through  the  attribute  of  extension  only;  and  so  on, 


1 72  SPINOZA 

in  the  case  of  other  attributes.  Wherefore  of  things  as  they  are 
in  themselves  God  is  really  the  cause,  inasmuch  as  he  consists 
of  infinite  attributes.  I  cannot  for  the  present  explain  my  mean- 
ing more  clearly. 

PROP.  VIII.  The  ideas  oj  particular  things,  or  oj  modes,  that 
do  not  exist,  must  be  comprehended  in  the  infinite  idea  oj  God, 
in  the  same  way  as  the  formal  essences  of  particular  things  or 
modes  are  contained  in  the  attributes  oj  God. 

Prooj.  —  This  proposition  is  evident  from  the  last ;  it  is  under- 
stood more  clearly  from  the  preceding  note. 

Corollary.  —  Hence,  so  long  as  particular  things  do  not  exist, 
except  in  so  far  as  they  are  comprehended  in  the  attributes  of 
God,  their  representations  in  thought  or  ideas  do  not  exist,  except 
in  so  far  as  the  infinite  idea  of  God  exists;  and  when  particular 
things  are  said  to  exist,  not  only  in  so  far  as  they  are  involved 
in  the  attributes  of  God,  but  also  in  so  far  as  they  are  said  to 
continue,  their  ideas  will  also  involve  existence,  through  which 
they  are  said  to  continue. 

PROP.  X.  The  being  of  substance  does  not  appertain  to  the 
essence  oj  man  —  in  other  words,  substance  does  not  constitute  the 
actual  being  l  oj  man. 

Prooj.  —  The  being  of  substance  involves  necessary  existence 
(Part  L,  Prop.  vii.).  If,  therefore,  the  being  of  substance  apper- 
tains to  the  essence  of  man,  substance  being  granted,  man  would 
necessarily  be  granted  also  (II.  Def.  ii.),  and,  consequently,  man 
would  necessarily  exist,  which  is  absurd  (II.  Ax.  i.).  Therefore, 
&c.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  This  proposition  may  also  be  proved  from  I.  v.,  in 
which  it  is  shown  that  there  cannot  be  two  substances  of  the 
same  nature;  for  as  there  may  be  many  men,  the  being  of  sub- 
stance is  not  that  which  constitutes  the  actual  being  of  man. 
Again,  the  proposition  is  evident  from  the  other  properties  of 
substance  —  namely,  that  substance  is  in  its  nature  infinite, 
immutable,  indivisible,  &c.,  as  anyone  may  see  for  himself. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows,  that  the  essence  of  man  is  con- 
stituted by  certain  modifications  of  the  attributes  of  God.  For 

1  Forma. 


THE  ETHICS  173 

(by  the  last  Prop.)  the  being  of  substance  does  not  belong  to 
the  essence  of  man.  That  essence  therefore  (by  i.  15)  is  something 
which  is  in  God,  and  which  without  God  can  neither  be  nor  be 
conceived,  whether  it  be  a  modification  (i.  25  Coroll.),  or  a  mode 
which  expresses  God's  nature  in  a  certain  conditioned  manner. 

PROP.  XI.  The  first  element,  which  constitutes  the  actual  being 
o)  the  human  mind,  is  the  idea  oj  some  particular  thing  actually 
existing. 

Proof.  —  The  essence  of  man  (by  the  Coroll.  of  the  last  Prop.) 
is  constituted  by  certain  modes  of  the  attributes  of  God,  namely 
(by  II.  Ax.  ii.),  by  the  modes  of  thinking,  of  all  which  (by  II. 
Ax.  iii.)  the  idea  is  prior  in  nature,  and,  when  the  idea  is  given, 
the  other  modes  (namely,  those  of  which  the  idea  is  prior  in 
nature)  must  be  in  the  same  individual  (by  the  same  Axiom). 
Therefore  an  idea  is  the  first  element  constituting  the  human 
mind.  But  not  the  idea  of  a  non-existent  thing,  for  then  (II.  viii. 
Coroll.)  the  idea  itself  cannot  be  said  to  exist;  it  must  therefore 
be  the  idea  of  something  actually  existing.  But  not  of  an  infi- 
nite thing.  For  an  infinite  thing  (I.  xxi.,  xxii.),  must  always  ne- 
cessarily exist;  this  would  (by  II.  Ax.  i.)  involve  an  absurdity. 
Therefore  the  first  element,  which  constitutes  the  actual  being 
of  the  human  mind,  is  the  idea  of  something  actually  existing. 
Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows,  that  the  human  mind  is  part  of 
the  infinite  intellect  of  God;  thus  when  we  say,  that  the  human 
mind  perceives  this  or  that,  we  make  the  assertion,  that  God 
has  this  or  that  idea,  not  in  so  far  as  he  is  infinite,  but  in  so  far 
as  he  is  displayed  through  the  nature  of  the  human  mind,  or  in 
so  far  as  he  constitutes  the  essence  of  the  human  mind ;  and  when 
we  say  that  God  has  this  or  that  idea,  not  only  in  so  far  as  he  con- 
stitutes the  essence  of  the  human  mind,  but  also  in  so  far  as  he, 
simultaneously  with  the  human  mind,  has  the  further  idea  of 
another  thing,  we  assert  that  the  human  mind  perceives  a  thing 
in  part  or  inadequately. 

PROP.  XXXII.  All  ideas,  in  so  jar  as  they  are  referred  to  God, 
are  true. 


1 74  SPINOZA 

Proof.  — All  ideas  which  are  in  God  agree  in  every  respect 
with  their  objects  (II.  vii.  Coroll.),  therefore  (I.  Ax.  vi.)  they 
are  all  true.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXIII.  There  is  nothing  positive  in  ideas,  which 
causes  them  to  be  called  false. 

Proof.  —  If  this  be  denied,  conceive,  if  possible,  a  positive 
mode  of  thinking,  which  should  constitute  the  distinctive  quality 
of  falsehood.  Such  a  mode  of  thinking  cannot  be  in  God  (II. 
xxxii.);  external  to  God  it  cannot  be  or  be  conceived  (I.  xv.). 
Therefore  there  is  nothing  positive  in  ideas  which  causes  them 
to  be  called  false.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXIV.  Every  idea,  which  in  us  is  absolute  or  adequate 
and  perfect,  is  true. 

Proof.  —  When  we  say  that  an  idea  in  us  is  adequate  and 
perfect,  we  say,  in  other  words  (II.  xi.  Coroll.)^  that  the  idea  is 
adequate  and  perfect  in  God,  in  so  far  as  he  constitutes  the 
essence  of  our  mind;  consequently  (II.  xxxii.),  we  say  that  such 
an  idea  is  true.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXV.  Falsity  consists  in  the  privation  of  knowledge, 
which  inadequate,  fragmentary,  or  confused  ideas  involve. 

Proof.  —  There  is  nothing  positive  in  ideas,  which  causes 
them  to  be  called  false  (II.  xxxiii.);  but  falsity  cannot  consist  in 
simple  privation  (for  minds,  not  bodies,  are  said  to  err  and  to  be 
mistaken),  neither  can  it  consist  in  absolute  ignorance,  for  igno- 
rance and  error  are  not  identical;  wherefore  it  consists  in  the 
privation  of  knowledge,  which  inadequate,  fragmentary,  or  con- 
fused ideas  involve.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXVI.  Inadequate  and  confused  ideas  follow  by  the 
same  necessity,  as  adequate  or  clear  and  distinct  ideas. 

Proof.  —  All  ideas  are  in  God  (I.  xv.),  and  in  so  far  as  they 
are  referred  to  God  are  true  (II.  xxxii.)  and  (II.  vii.  Coroll.) 
adequate;  therefore  there  are  no  ideas  confused  or  inadequate, 
except  in  respect  to  a  particular  mind  (cf.  II.  xxiv.  and  xxviii.); 
therefore  all  ideas,  whether  adequate  or  inadequate,  follow  by 
the  same  necessity  (II.  vi.).  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XL.  Whatsoever  ideas  in  the  mind  follow  from  ideas 
which  are  therein  adequate,  are  also  themselves  adequate. 


THE  ETHICS  175 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  is  self-evident.  For  when  we  say 
that  an  idea  in  the  human  mind  follows  from  ideas  which  are 
therein  adequate,  we  say,  in  other  words  (II.  xi.  Coroll.),  that  an 
idea  is  in  the  divine  intellect,  whereof  God  is  the  cause,  not  in  so 
far  as  he  is  infinite,  nor  in  so  far  as  he  is  affected  by  the  ideas  of 
very  many  particular  things,  but  only  in  so  far  as  he  constitutes 
the  essence  of  the  human  mind. 

Note  II.  —  From  all  that  has  been  said  above  it  is  clear,  that 
we,  in  many  cases,  perceive  and  form  our  general  notions:  — 
(i)  From  particular  things  represented  to  our  intellect  fragment- 
arily,  confusedly,  and  without  order  through  our  senses  (II.  xxix. 
Coroll.);  I  have  settled  to  call  such  perceptions  by  the  name 
of  knowledge  from  the  mere  suggestions  of  experience.  (2)  From 
symbols,  e.  g.,  from  the  fact  of  having  read  or  heard  certain 
words  we  remember  things  and  form  certain  ideas  concerning 
them,  similar  to  those  through  which  we  imagine  things  (II. 
xviii.  note).  I  shall  call  both  these  ways  of  regarding  things 
knowledge  of  the  first  kind,  opinion,  or  imagination.  (3)  From  the 
fact  that  we  have  notions  common  to  all  men,  and  adequate  ideas 
of  the  properties  of  things  (II.  xxxviii.  Coroll.,  xxxix.  and  Coroll. 
and  xl.);  this  I  call  reason  and  knowledge  of  the  second  kind. 
Besides  these  two  kinds  of  knowledge,  there  is,  as  I  will  hereafter 
show,  a  third  kind  of  knowledge,  which  we  will  call  intuition. 
This  kind  of  knowledge  proceeds  from  an  adequate  idea  of  the# 
absolute  essence  of  certain  attributes  of  God  to  the  adequate^ 
knowledge  of  the  essence  of  things.  I  will  illustrate  all  three  kinds  ^~ 
of  knowledge  by  a  single  example.  Three  numbers  are  given 
for  finding  a  fourth,  which  shall  be  to  the  third  as  the  second  is  to 
the  first.  Tradesmen  without  hesitation  multiply  the  second  by 
the  third,  and  divide  the  product  by  the  first ;  either  because  they 
have  not  forgotten  the  rule  which  they  received  from  a  master 
without  any  proof,  or  because  they  have  often  made  trial  of  it 
with  simple  numbers,  or  by  virtue  of  the  proof  of  the  nineteenth 
proposition  of  the  sevgnth-bGO^  olEuclid,  namely,  in  virtue  of  the 
general  property  <? proportionals.^ 

But  with  very  simpfe  numbcfsthere  is  no  need  of  this.   For 


176  SPINOZA 

instance,  one,  two,  three,  being  given,  everyone  can  see  that  the 
fourth  proportional  is  six;  and  this  is  much  clearer,  because  we 
infer  the  fourth  number  from  an  intuitive  grasping  of  the  ratio, 
which  the  first  bears  to  the  second. 

PROP.  XLI.  Knowledge  oj  the  -first  kind  is  the  only  source 
oj  falsity,  knowledge  of  the  second  and  third  kinds  is  necessarily 
true. 

Proof.  —  To  knowledge  of  the  first  kind  we  have  (in  the  fore- 
going note)  assigned  all  those  ideas,  which  are  inadequate  and 
confused;  therefore  this  kind  of  knowledge  is  the  only  source 
of  falsity  (II.  xxxv.).  Furthermore,  we  assigned  to  the  second 
and  third  kinds  of  knowledge  those  ideas  which, are  adequate; 
therefore  these  kinds  are  necessarily  true  (II.  xxxiv.).  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XLIL  Knowledge  oj  the  second  and  third  kinds,  not 
knowledge  oj  the  first  kind,  teaches  us  to  distinguish  the  true  from 
the  false. 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  is  self-evident.  He,  who  knows 
how  to  distinguish  between  true  and  false,  must  have  an  ade- 
quate idea  of  true  and  false.  That  is  (II.  xl.,  note  ii.),  he  must 
know  the  true  and  the  false  by  the  second  or  third  kind  of  know- 
ledge. 

PROP.  XLIII.  He,  who  has  a  true  idea,  simultaneously  knows 
that  he  has  a  true  idea,  and  cannot  doubt  oj  the  truth  oj  the  thing 
perceived. 

Proof.  —  A  true  idea  in  us  is  an  idea  which  is  adequate  in 
God,  in  so  far  as  he  is  displayed  through  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind  (II.  xi.  Coroll).  Let  us  suppose  that  there  is  in  God,  in  so 
far  as  he  is  displayed  through  the  human  mind,  an  adequate 
idea,  A.  The  idea  of  this  idea  must  also  necessarily  be  in  God, 
and  be  referred  to  him  in  the  same  way  as  the  idea  A  (by  II, 
xx.,  whereof  the  proof  is  of  universal  application).  But  the  idea 
A  is  supposed  to  be  referred  to  God,  in  so  far  as  he  is  displayed 
through  the  human  mind;  therefore,  the  idea  of  thefdea  A  must 
be  referred  to  God  in  the  same  manner;  that  is  (by  II.  xi. 
Coroll.),  the  adequate  idea  of  the  idea  A  will  be  in  the  mind, 
which  has  the  adequate  idea  A ;  therefore  he,  who  has  an  ade- 
quate idea  or  knows  a  thing  truly  (II.  xxxiv.),  must  at  the 


THE  ETHICS  177 

same  time  have  an  adequate  idea  or  true  knowledge  of  his 
knowledge;  that  is, obviously, he  must  be  assured.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XLIV.  It  is  not  in  the  nature  oj  reason  to  regard  things 
as  contingent,  but  as  necessary. 

Proof.  —  It  is  in  the  nature  of  reason  to  perceive  things  truly 
(II.  xli.),  namely  (I.  Ax.  vi.),  as  they  are  in  themselves  —  that  is 
(I.  xxix.),  not  as  contingent,  but  as  necessary.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary  I.  —  Hence  it  follows,  that  it  is  only  through  our 
imagination  that  we  consider  things,  whether  in  respect  to  the 
future  or  the  past,  as  contingent. 

Corollary  II.  —  It  is  in  the  nature  of  reason  to  perceive  things 
under  a  certain  form  of  eternity  (sub  quddam  ceternitalis  specie}. 

Proof.  —  It  is  in  the  nature  of  reason  to  regard  things,  not  as 
contingent,  but  as  necessary  (II.  xliv.).  Reason  perceives  this 
necessity  of  things  (II.  xli.)  truly  —  that  is  (I.  Ax.  vi.),  as  it  is 
in  itself.  But  (I.  xvi.)  this  necessity  of  things  is  the  very  neces- 
sity of  the  eternal  nature  of  God ;  therefore,  it  is  in  the  nature  of 
reason  to  regard  things  under  this  form  of  eternity.  We  may 
add  that  the  bases  of  reason  are  the  notions  (II.  xxxviii.),  which 
answer  to  things  common  to  all,  and  which  (II,  xxxvii.)  do  not 
answer  to  the  essence  of  any  particular  thing :  which  must  there- 
fore be  conceived  without  any  relation  to  time,  under  a  certain 
form  of  eternity. 

PROP.  XLV.  Every  idea  of  every  body,  or  of  every  particular 
thing  actually  existing,  necessarily  involves  the  eternal  and  infinite 
essence  of  God. 

Proof.  —  The  idea  of  a  particular  thing  actually  existing  neces- 
sarily involves  both  the  existence  and  the  essence  of  the  said 
thing  (II.  viii.).  Now  particular  things  cannot  be  conceived 
without  God  (I.  xv.);  but,  inasmuch  as  (II.  vi.)  they  have  God 
for  their  CAiise,  in  so  far  as  he  is  regarded  under  the  attribute 
of  which  the  things  in  question  are  modes,  their  ideas  must 
necessarily  involve  (I,  Ax.  iv.)  the  conception  of  the  attribute  of 
those  ideas  —  that  is  (I.  vi.),  the  eternal  and  infinite  essence  of 
God.  Q.  E.  D. 


178  SPINOZA 

Note.  —  By  existence  I  do  not  here  mean  duration  —  that 
is,  existence  in  so  far  as  it  is  conceived  abstractedly,  and  as  a 
certain  form  of  quantity.  I  am  speaking  of  the  very  nature  of 
existence,  which  is  assigned  to  particular  things,  because  they 
follow  in  infinite  numbers  and  in  infinite  ways  from  the  eternal 
necessity  of  God's  nature  I.  (xvi.).  I  am  speaking,  I  repeat,  of 
the  very  existence  of  particular  things,  in  so  far  as  they  are  in 
God.  For  although  each  particular  thing  be  conditioned  by 
another  particular  thing  to  exist  in  a  given  way,  yet  the  force 
whereby  each  particular  thing  perseveres  in  existing  follows 
from  the  eternal  necessity  of  God's  nature  (cf.  I.  xxiv.  Coroll.). 

PROP.  XL VI.  The  knowledge  oj  the  eternal  and  infinite  essence 
of  God  which  every  idea  involves  is  adequate  and  perject. 

Proof.  —  The  proof  "of  the  last  proposition  is  universal;  and 
whether  a  thing  be  considered  as  a  part  or  a  whole,  the  idea 
thereof,  whether  of  the  whole  or  of  a  part  (by  the  last  Prop.), 
will  involve  God's  eternal  and  infinite  essence.  Wherefore,  that, 
which  gives  knowledge  of  the  eternal  and  infinite  essence  of  God, 
is  common  to  all,  and  is  equally  in  the  part  and  in  the  whole; 
therefore  (II.  xxxviii.)  this  knowledge  will  be  adequate.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XL VII.  The  human  mind  has  an  adequate  knowledge 
of  the  eternal  and  infinite  essence  of  God. 

Proof.  —  The  human  mind  has  ideas  (II.  xxii.),  from  which 
(II.  xxiii.)  it  perceives  itself  and  its  own  body  (II.  xix.)  and  ex- 
ternal bodies  (II.  xvi.  Coroll.  I.  and  II.  xvii.)  as  actually  existing; 
therefore  (II.  xlv.  xlvi.)  it  has  an  adequate  knowledge  of  the 
eternal  and  infinite  essence  of  God.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XL VIII.  In  the  mind  there  is  no  absolute  or  free  will; 
but  the  mind  is  determined  to  wish  this  or  that  by  a  cause,  which 
has  also  been  determined  by  another  cause,  and  this  last  by  another 
cause,  and  so  on  to  infinity. 

Proof.  —  The  mind  is  a  fixed  and  definite  mode  of  thought 
(II.  xi.),  therefore  it  cannot  be  the  free  cause  of  its  actions  (I. 
xvii.  Coroll.  ii.) ;  in  other  words,  it  cannot  have  an  absolute  faculty 
of  positive  or  negative  volition;  but  (by  I.  xxviii.)  it  must  be  de- 
termined by  a  cause,  which  has  also  been  determined  by  another 
cause,  and  this  last  by  another,  &c.  Q.  E.  D. 


THE  ETHICS  179 

Note.  —  In  the  same  way  it  is  proved,  that  there  is  in  the 
mind  no  absolute  faculty  of  understanding,  desiring,  loving,  &c. 
Whence  it  follows,  that  these  and  similar  faculties  are  either 
entirely  fictitious,  or  are  merely  abstract  or  general  terms,  such  as 
we  are  accustomed  to  put  together  from  particular  things.  .  .  . 

PROP.  XLIX.  There  is  in  the  mind  no  volition  or  affirmation 
and  negation,  save  that  which  an  idea,  inasmuch  as  it  is  an  idea, 
involves. 

Proo).  —  There  is  in  the  mind  no  absolute  faculty  of  positive 
or  negative  volition,  but  only  particular  volitions,  namely,  this 
or  that  affirmation,  and  this  or  that  negation.  Now  let  us  con- 
ceive a  particular  volition,  namely,  the  mode  of  thinking  whereby 
the  mind  affirms,  that  the  three  interior  angles  of  a  triangle  are 
equal  to  two  right  angles.  This  affirmation  involves  the  concep- 
tion or  idea  of  a  triangle,  that  is,  without  the  idea  of  a  triangle 
it  cannot  be  conceived.  It  is  the  same  thing  to  say,  that  the  con- 
cept A  must  involve  the  concept  B,  as  it  is  to  say,  that  A  cannot  be 
conceived  without  B.  Further,  this  affirmation  cannot  be  made 
(II.  Ax.  iii.)  without  the  idea  of  a  triangle.  Therefore/ this  affir- 
mation can  neither  be  nor  be  conceived,  without  the  idea  of  a 
triangle.  Again,  this  idea  of  a  triangle  must  involve  this  same 
affirmation,  namely,  that  its  three  interior  angles  are  equal  to 
two  right  angles.  Wherefore,  and  vice  versa,  this  idea  of  a  tri- 
angle can  neither  be  nor  be  conceived  without  this  affirmation, 
therefore,  this  affirmation  belongs  to  the  essence  of  the  idea  of  a 
triangle,  and  is  nothing  besides.  W7hat  we  have  said  of  this  voli- 
tion (inasmuch  as  we  have  selected  it  at  random)  may  be  said 
of  any  other  volition,  namely,  that  it  is  nothing  but  an  idea. 
Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Will  and  understanding  are  one  and  the  same. 

Proof.  —  Will  and  understanding  are  nothing  beyond  the 
individual  volitions  and  ideas  (II.  xlviii.  and  note).  But  a  particu- 
lar volition  and  a  particular  idea  are  one  and  the  same  (by  the 
foregoing  Prop.) ;  therefore,  will  and  understanding  are  one  and 
the  same.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  We  have  thus  removed  the  cause  which  is  commonly 
assigned  for  error.  For  we  have  shown  above,  that  falsity  con- 


i8o  SPINOZA 

sists  solely  in  the  privation  of  knowledge  involved  in  ideas  which 
are  fragmentary  and  confused.  Wherefore,  a  false  idea,  inas- 
much as  it  is  false,  does  not  involve  certainty.  .  .  . 

It  remains  to  point  out  the  advantages  of  a  knowledge  of  this 
doctrine  as  bearing  on  conduct,  and  this  may  be  easily  gathered 
from  what  has  been  said.  The  doctrine  is  good, 

1.  Inasmuch  as  it  teaches  us  to  act  solely  according  to  the 
decree  of  God,  and  to  be  partakers  in  the  Divine  nature,  and 
so  much  the  more,  as  we  perform  more  perfect  actions  and  more 
and  more  understand  God.  Such  a  doctrine  not  only  completely 
tranquillizes  our  spirit,  but  also  shows  us  where  our  highest 
happiness  or  blessedness  is,  namely,  solely  in  the  knowledge  of 
God,  whereby  we  are  led  to  act  only  as  love  and  piety  shall  bid 
us.  We  may  thus  clearly  understand^  how  far  astray  from  a  true 
estimate  of  virtue  are  those  who  expect  to  be  decorated  by  God 
with  high  rewards  for  their  virtue,  and  their  best  actions,  as  for 
having  endured  the  direst  slavery;  as  if  virtue  and  the  service  of 
God  were  not  in  itself  happiness  and  perfect  freedom. 

2.  Inasmuch  as  it  teaches  us,  how  we  ought  to  conduct  our- 
selves with  respect  to  the  gifts  of  fortune,  or  matters  which  are 
not  in  our  own  power,  and  do  not  follow  from  our  nature.   For 
it  shows  us,  that  we  should  await  and  endure  fortune's  smiles  or 
frowns  with  an  equal  mind,  seeing  that  all  things  follow  from  the 
eternal  decree  of  God  by  the  same  necessity,  as  it  follows  from 
the  essence  of  a  triangle,  that  the  three  angles  are  equal  to  two 
right  angles. 

3.  This  doctrine  raises  social  life,  inasmuch  as  it  teaches  us 
to  hate  no  man,  neither  to  despise,  to  deride,  to  envy,  or  to  be 
angry  with  any.  Further,  as  it  tells  us  that  each  should  be  con- 
tent with  his  own,  and  helpful  to  his  neighbour,  not  from  any 
womanish  pity,  favour,  or  superstition,  but  solely  by  the  guid- 
ance of  reason,  according  as  the  time  and  occasion  demand,  as  I 
will  show  in  Part  III. 

4.  Lastly,  this  doctrine  confers  no  small  advantage  on  the 
commonwealth;  for  it  teaches  how  citizens  should  be  governed 
and  led,  not  so  as  to  become  slaves,  but  so  that  they  may  freely 
do  whatsoever  things  are  best. 


THE   ETHICS  181 

PART  V.  — OF  THE    POWER    OF   THE   UNDER- 
STANDING,  OR   OF   HUMAN   FREEDOM 

PREFACE 

At  length  I  pass  to  the  remaining  portion  of  my  Ethics,  which 
is  concerned  with  the  way  leading  to  freedom.  I  shall  therefore 
treat  therein  of  the  power  of  the  reason,  showing  how  far  the 
reason  can  control  the  emotions,  and  what  is  the  nature  of  Mental 
Freedom  or  Blessedness ;  we  shall  then  be  able  to  see,  how  much 
more  powerful  the  wise  man  is  than  the  ignorant.  It  is  no  part 
of  my  design  to  point  out  the  method  and  means  whereby  the 
understanding  may  be  perfected,  nor  to  show  the  skill  whereby 
the  body  may  be  so  tended,  as  to  be  capable  of  the  due  perform- 
ance of  its  functions.  The  latter  question  lies  in  the  province  of 
Medicine,  the  former  in  the  province  of  Logic.  Here,  therefore, 
I  repeat,  I  shall  treat  only  of  the  power  of  the  mind,  or  of  reason ; 
and  I  shall  mainly  show  the  extent  and  nature  of  its  dominion 
over  the  emotions,  for  their  control  and  moderation. 

AXIOMS 

I.  If  two  contrary  actions  be  started  in  the  same  subject,  a 
change  must  necessarily  take  place,  either  in  both,  or  in  one  of 
the  two,  and  continue  until  they  cease  to  be  contrary. 

II.  The  power  of  an  effect  is  defined  by  the  power  of  its  cause, 
in  so  far  as  its  essence  is  explained  or  defined  by  the  essence  of 
its  cause. 

(This  axiom  is  evident  from  III.  vii.) 

PROP.  I.  Even  as  thoughts  and  the  ideas  of  things  are  arranged 
and  associated  in  the  mind,  so  are  the  modifications  of  body  or 
the  images  of  things  precisely  in  the  same  way  arranged  and  asso- 
ciated in  the  body. 

Proof.  —  The  order  and  connection  of  ideas  is  the  same 
(II.  vii.)  as  the  order  and  connection  of  things,  and  vice  versa 
the  order  and  connection  of  things  is  the  same  (II.  vi.  Coroll. 
and  vii.)  as  the  order  and  connection  of  ideas.  Wherefore,  even 


182  SPINOZA 

as  the  order  and  connection  of  ideas  in  the  mind  takes  place 
according  to  the  order  and  association  of  modifications  of  the 
body  (II.  xviii.),  so  vice  versa  (III.  ii.)  the  order  and  connection 
of  modifications  of  the  body  takes  place  in  accordance  with  the 
manner,  in  which  thoughts  and  the  ideas  of  things  are  arranged 
and  associated  in  the  mind.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  II.  //  we  remove  a  disturbance  of  the  spirit,  or  emotion, 
from  the  thought  of  an  external  cause,  and  unite  it  to  other  thoughts, 
then  will  the  love  or  hatred  towards  that  external  cause,  and  also  the 
vacillations  oj  spirit  which  arise  from  these  emotions,  be  destroyed. 

Proof.  —  That,  which  constitutes  the  reality  of  love  or  hatred, 
is  pleasure  or  pain,  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  an  external  cause 
(Def.  of  the  Emotions,  vi.  vii.);  wherefore,  when  this  cause  is 
removed,  the  reality  of  love  or  hatred  is  removed  with  it ;  there- 
fore these  emotions  and  those  which  arise  therefrom  are  de- 
stroyed. Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  III.  An  emotion,  which  is  a  passion,  ceases  to  be  a  pas- 
sion, as  soon  as  we  form  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  thereof. 

Proof.  —  An  emotion,  which  is  a  passion,  is  a  confused  idea 
(by  the  general  Def.  of  the  Emotions).  If,  therefore,  we  form  a 
clear  and  distinct  idea  of  a  given  emotion,  that  idea  will  only  be 
distinguished  from  the  emotion,  in  so  far  as  it  is  referred  to  the 
mind  only,  by  reason  (II.  xxi.  and  note);  therefore  (III.  iii.),  the 
emotion  will  cease  to  be  a  passion.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  An  emotion  therefore  becomes  more  under  our 
control,  and  the  mind  is  less  passive  in  respect  to  it,  in  propor- 
tion as  it  is  more  known  to  us. 

PROP.  IV.  There  is  no  modification  of  the  body,  whereof  we 
cannot  form  some  clear  and  distinct  conception. 

Proof.  —  Properties  which  are  common  to  all  things  can  only 
be  conceived  adequately  (II.  xxxviii.);  therefore  (II.  xii.  and 
Lemma  ii.  after  II.  xiii.)  there  is  no  modification  of  the  body, 
whereof  we  cannot  form  some  clear  and  distinct  conception. 
Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows  that  there  is  no  emotion,  whereof 
we  cannot  form  some  clear  and  distinct  conception.  For  an 
emotion  is  the  idea  of  a  modification  of  the  body  (by  the  general 


THE  ETHICS  183 

Def.  of  the  Emotions),  and  must  therefore  (by  the  preceding 
Prop.)  involve  some  clear  and  distinct  conception. 

Note.  —  Seeing  that  there  is  nothing  which  is  not  followed 
by  an  effect  (I.  xxxvi.),  and  that  we  clearly  and  distinctly  under- 
stand whatever  follows  from  an  idea,  which  in  us  is  adequate 
(II.  xl.),  it  follows  that  everyone  has  the  power  of  clearly  and 
distinctly  understanding  himself  and  his  emotions,  if  not  abso- 
lutely, at  any  rate  in  part,  and  consequently  of  bringing  it  about, 
that  he  should  become  less  subject  to  them.  To  attain  this  result, 
therefore,  we  must  chiefly  direct  our  efforts  to  acquiring,  as  far 
as  possible,  a  clear  and  distinct  knowledge  of  every  emotion,  in 
order  that  the  mind  may  thus,  through  emotion,  be  determined  to 
think  of  those  things  which  it  clearly  and  distinctly  perceives, 
and  wherein  it  fully  acquiesces :  and  thus  that  the  emotion  itself 
may  be  separated  from  the  thought  of  an  external  cause,  and  may 
be  associated  with  true  thoughts ;  whence  it  will  come  to  pass,  not 
only  that  love,  hatred,  &c.  will  be  destroyed  (V.  ii.),  but  also 
that  the  appetites  or  desires,  which  are  wont  to  arise  from  such 
emotion,  will  become  incapable  of  being  excessive  (IV.  IxL).  <,  .  . 

PROP.  V.  An  emotion  towards  a  thing,  which  we  conceive 
simply,  and  not  as  necessary,  or  as  contingent,  or  as  possible,  is, 
other  conditions  being  equal,  greater  than  any  other  emotion. 

Proof.  —  An  emotion  towards  a  thing,  which  we  conceive  to 
be  free,  is  greater  than  one  towards  what  we  conceive  to  be  neces- 
sary (III.  xlix.),  and,  consequently,  still  greater  than  one  towards 
what  we  conceive  as  possible,  or  contingent  (IV.  xi.).  But  to  con- 
ceive a  thing  a.s  free  can  be  nothing  else  than  to  conceive  it  sim- 
ply, while  we  are  in  ignorance  of  the  causes  whereby  it  has  been 
determined  to  action  (II.  xxxv.  note) ;  therefore,  an  emotion  to- 
wards a  thing  which  we  conceive  simply  is,  other  conditions 
being  equal,  greater  than  one,  which  we  feel  towards  what  is 
necessary,  possible,  or  contingent,  and,  consequently,  it  is  the 
greatest  of  all.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  VI.  The  mind  has  greater  power  over  the  emotions  and 
is  less  subject  thereto,  in  so  far  as  it  understands  all  things  as 
necessary. 

Proof.  —  The  mind  understands  all  things  to  be  necessary, 


1 84  SPINOZA 

(I.  xxix.)  and  to  be  determined  to  existence  and  operation  by 
an  infinite  chain  of  causes;  therefore  (by  the  foregoing  Propo- 
sition), it  thus  far  brings  it  about,  that  it  is  less  subject  to  the 
emotions  arising  therefrom,  and  (III.  xlviii.)  feels  less  emotion 
towards  the  things  themselves.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  The  more  this  knowledge,  that  things  are  necessary, 
is  applied  to  particular  things,  which  we  conceive  more  distinctly 
and  vividly,  the  greater  is  the  power  of  the  mind  over  the  emo- 
tions, as  experience  also  testifies.  For  we  see,  that  the  pain  aris- 
ing from  the  loss  of  any  good  is  mitigated,  as  soon  as  the  man 
who  has  lost  it  perceives,  that  it  could  not  by  any  means  have 
been  preserved.  .  .  . 

PROP.  XIV.  The  mind  can  bring  it  about,  that  all  bodily  modi- 
fications or  images  of  things  may  be  referred  to  the  idea  of  God. 

Proof.  —  There  is  no  modification  of  the  body,  whereof  the 
mind  may  not  form  some  clear  and  distinct  conception  (V.  iv.); 
wherefore  it  can  bring  it  about,  that  they  should  all  be  referred 
to  the  idea  of  God  (I.  xv.).  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XV.  He  who  clearly  and  distinctly  understands  himself 
and  his  emotions  loves  God,  and  so  much  the  more  in  proportion 
as  he  more  understands  himself  and  his  emotions. 

Proof.  —  He  who  clearly  and  distinctly  understands  himself 
and  his  emotions  feels  pleasure  (III.  liii.),  and  this  pleasure  is 
(by  the  last  Prop.)  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  God;  therefore 
(Def.  of  the  Emotions,  vi.)  such  an  one  loves  God,  and  (for  the 
same  reason)  so  much  the  more  in  proportion  as  he  more  under- 
stands himself  and  his  emotions.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XVI.  This  love  towards  God  must  hold  the  chief  place 
in  the  mind. 

Proof.  —  For  this  love  is  associated  with  all  the  modifications 
of  the  body  (V.  xiv.)  and  is  fostered  by  them  all  (V.  xv.) ;  therefore 
(V.  xi.),  it  must  hold  the  chief  place  in  the  mind.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XVII.  God  is  without  passions,  neither  is  he  affected 
by  any  emotion  of  pleasure  or  pain. 

Proof.  —  All  ideas,  in  so  far  as  they  are  referred  tcr  God,  are 
true  (II.  xxxii.),  that  is  (II.  Def.  iv.)  adequate;  and  therefore 
(by  the  general  Def.  of  the  Emotions)  God  is  without  passions. 


THE  ETHICS  185 

Again,  God  cannot  pass  either  to  a  greater  or  to  a  lesser  perfec- 
tion (I.  xx.  Coroll.  ii.);  therefore  (by  Def.  of  the  Emotions,  ii. 
Hi.)  he  is  not  affected  by  any  emotion  of  pleasure  or  pain. 

Corollary.  —  Strictly  speaking,  God  does  not  love  or  hate 
anyone.  For  God  (by  the  foregoing  Prop.)  is  not  affected  by  any 
emotion  of  pleasure  or  pain,  consequently  (Def.  of  the  Emo- 
tions, vi.  vii.)  he  does  not  love  or  hate  anyone. 

PROP.  XVIII.  No  one  can  hate  God. 

Proof.  —  The  idea  of  God  which  is  in  us  is  adequate  and  per- 
fect (II.  xlvi.,  xlvii.) ;  wherefore,  in  so  far  as  we  contemplate  God, 
we  are  active  (III.  iii.);  consequently  (III.  lix.)  there  can  be  no 
pain  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  God,  in  other  words  (Def.  of 
the  Emotions,  vii.),  no  one  can  hate  God.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Love  towards  God  cannot  be  turned  into  hate. 

Note.  —  It  may  be  objected  that,  as  we  understand  God  as 
the  cause  of  all  things,  we  by  that  very  fact  regard  God  as  the 
cause  of  pain.  But  I  make  answer,  that,  in  so  far  as  we  under- 
stand the  causes  of  pain,  it  to  that  extent  (V.  iii.)  ceases  to  be  a 
passion,  that  is,  it  ceases  to  be  pain  (III.  lix.) ;  therefore,  in  so  far 
as  we  understand  God  to  be  the  cause  of  pain,  we  to  that  extent 
feel  pleasure. 

PROP.  XIX.  He,  who  loves  God,  cannot  endeavour  that  God 
should  love  him  in  return. 

Proof.  —  For,  if  a  man  should  so  endeavour,  he  would  desire 
(V.  xvii.  Coroll.)  that  God,  whom  he  loves,  should  not  be  God, 
and  consequently  he  would  desire  to  feel  pain  (III.  xix.) ;  which 
is  absurd  (III.  xxviii.).  Therefore,  he  who  loves  God,  &c. 
Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XX.  This  love  towards  God  cannot  be  stained  by  the 
emotion  of  envy  or  jealousy:  contrariwise,  it  is  the  more  fostered, 
in  proportion  as  we  conceive  a  greater  number  of  men  to  be  joined 
to  God  by  the  same  bond  of  love. 

Proof.  —  This  love  towards  God  is  the  highest  good  which 
we  can  seek  for  under  the  guidance  of  reason  (IV.  xxviii.),  it  is 
common  to  all  men  (IV.  xxxvi.),  and  we  desire  that  all  should 
rejoice  therein  (IV.  xxxvii.);  therefore  (Def.  of  the  Emotions, 
xxiii.),  it  cannot  be  stained  by  the  emotion  of  envy,  nor  by  the 


186  SPINOZA 

emotion  of  jealousy  (V.  xviii.,  see  definition  of  Jealousy,  III. 
xxxv.  note);  but,  contrariwise,  it  must  needs  be  the  more  fos- 
tered, in  proportion  as  we  conceive  a  greater  number  of  men  to 
rejoice  therein.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  We  can  in  the  same  way  show,  that  there  is  no 
emotion  directly  contrary  to  this  love,  whereby  this  love  can  be 
destroyed ;  therefore  we  may  conclude,  that  this  love  towards  God 
is  the  most  constant  of  all  the  emotions,  and  that,  in  so  far  as  it 
is  referred  to  the  body,  it  cannot  be  destroyed,  unless  the  body 
be  destroyed  also.  As  to  its  nature,  in  so  far  as  it  is  referred  to 
the  mind  only,  we  shall  presently  inquire. 

I  have  now  gone  through  all  the  remedies  against  the  emo- 
tions, or  all  that  the  mind,  considered  in  itself  alone,  can  do 
against  them.  Whence  it  appears  that  the  mind's  power  over 
the  emotions  consists :  — 

I.  In  the  actual  knowledge  of  the  emotions  (V.  iv.  note). 

II.  In  the  fact  that  it  separates  the  emotions  from  the  thought 
of  an  external  cause,  which  we  conceive  confusedly  (V.  ii.  and  iv. 
note). 

III.  In  the  fact,  that,  in  respect  to  time,  the  emotions  referred 
to  things,  which  we  distinctly  understand,  surpass  those  referred 
to  what  we  conceive  in  a  confused  and  fragmentary  manner 
(V.  vii.). 

IV.  In  the  number  of  causes  whereby  those  modifications  l 
are  fostered,  which  have  regard  to  the  common  properties  of 
things  or  to  God  (V.  ix.  xi.). 

V.  Lastly,  in  the  order  wherein  the  mjnd^cjjiarrange  and 
associate,  one  with  another,  its  own  emotions  (V.  x.  note  and  xii. 
xiii.  xiv.). 

But,  in  order  that  this  power  of  the  mind  over  the  emotions 
may  be  better  understood,  it  should  be  specially  observed  that 
the  emotions  are  called  by  us  strong,  when  we  compare  the  emo- 
tion of  one  man  with  the  emotion  of  another,  and  see  that  one 
man  is  more  troubled  than  another  by  the  same  emotion ;  or  when 
we  are  comparing  the  various  emotions  of  the  same  man  one  with 
another,  and  find  that  he  is  more  affected  or  stirred  by  one  emo- 

1  Affectiones.    Camerer  reads  aftectus,  emotions. 


THE   ETHICS  187 

tion  than  by  another.  For  the  strength  of  every  emotion  is  de- 
nned by  a  comparison  of  our  own  power  with  the  power  of  an 
external  cause.  Now  the  power  of  the  mind  is  denned  by  know- 
ledge only,  and  its  infirmity  or  passion  is  defined  by  the  privation 
of  knowledge  only:  it  therefore  follows,  that  that  mind  is  most 
passive,  whose  greatest  part  is  made  up  of  inadequate  ideas,  so 
that  it  may  be  characterized  more  readily  by  its  passive  states 
than  by  its  activities :  on  the  other  hand,  that  mind  is  most  active, 
whose  greatest  part  is  made  up  of  adequate  ideas,  so  that,  al- 
though it  may  contain  as  many  inadequate  ideas  as  the  former 
mind,  it  may  yet  be  more  easily  characterized  by  ideas  attribut- 
able to  human  virtue,  than  by  ideas  which  tell  of  human  infirmity. 
Again,  it  must  be  observed,  that  spiritual  unhealthiness  and  mis- 
fortunes can  generally  be  traced  to  excessive  love  for  something 
which  is  subject  to  many  variations,  and  which  we  can  never 
become  masters  of.  For  no  one  is  solicitous  or  anxious  about  any- 
thing, unless  he  loves  it ;  neither  do  wrongs,  suspicions,  enmities, 
&c.  arise,  except  in  regard  to  things  whereof  no  one  can  be  really 
master. 

We  may  thus  readily  conceive  the  power  which  clear  and  dis- 
tinct knowledge,  and  especially  that  third  kind  of  knowledge 
(II.  xlvii.  note),  founded  on  the  actual  knowledge  of  God,  pos- 
sesses over  the  emotions :  if  it  does  not  absolutely  destroy  them, 
in  so  far  as  they  are  passions  (V.  iii.  and  iv.  note) ;  at  any  rate, 
it  causes  them  to  occupy  a  very  small  part  of  the  mind  (V.  xiv.). 
Further,  it  begets  a  love  towards  a  thing  immutable  and  eternal 
(V.  xv.),  whereof  we  may  really  enter  into  possession  (II.  xlv.); 
neither  can  it  be  defiled  with  those  faults  which  are  inherent  in 
ordinary  love ;  but  it  may  grow  from  strength  to  strength,  and  may 
engross  the  greater  part  of  the  mind,  and  deeply  penetrate  it. 

And  now  I  have  finished  with  all  that  concerns  this  present 
life:  for,  as  I  said  in  the  beginning  of  this  note,  I  have  briefly 
described  all  the  remedies  against  the  emotions.  And  this  every 
one  may  readily  have  seen  for  himself,  if  he  has  attended  to  what 
is  advanced  in  the  present  note,  and  also  to  the  definitions  of  the 
mind  and  its  emotions,  and,  lastly,  to  Propositions  i.  and  iii.  of 
Part  III.  It  is  now,  therefore,  time  to  pass  on  to  those  matters, 


i88  SPINOZA 

which  appertain  to  the  duration  of  the  mind,  without  relation  to 
the  body. 

PROP.  XXI.  The  mind  can  only  imagine  anything,  or  remem- 
ber what  is  past,  while  the  body  endures. 

Proof.  —  The  mind  does  not  express  the  actual  existence  of 
its  body,  nor  does  it  imagine  the  modifications  of  the  body  as 
actual,  except  while  the  body  endures  (II.  viii.  Coroll.) ;  and,  con- 
sequently (II.  xxvi.),  it  does  not  imagine  any  body  as  actually 
existing,  except  while  its  own  body  endures.  Thus  it  cannot 
imagine  anything  (for  definition  of  Imagination,  see  II.  xvii. 
note),  or  remember  things  past,  except  while  the  body  endures 
(see  definition  of  Memory,  II.  xviii.  note).  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXII.  Nevertheless  in  God  there  is  necessarily  an  idea, 
which  expresses  the  essence  0}  4his  or  that  human  body  under  the 
form  of  eternity. 

Proof.  —  God  is  the  cause,  not  only  of  the  existence  of  this  or 
that  human  body,  but  also  of  its  essence  (I.  xxv.).  This  essence, 
therefore,  must  necessarily  be  conceived  through  the  very  essence 
of  God  (I.  Ax.  iv.),  and  be  thus  conceived  by  a  certain  eternal 
necessity  (I.  xvi.);  and  this  conception  must  necessarily  exist  in 
God  (II.  in.).  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXIII.  The  human  mind  cannot  be  absolutely  destroyed 
with  the  body,  but  there  remains  of  it  something  which  is  eternal. 

Proof.  —  There  is  necessarily  in  God  a  concept  or  idea,  which 
expresses  the  essence  of  the  human  body  (last  Prop.),  which, 
therefore,  is  necessarily  something  appertaining  to  the  essence 
of  the  human  mind  (II.  xiii.).  But  we  have  not  assigned  to  the 
human  mind  any  duration,  definable  by  time,  except  in  so  far 
as  it  expresses  the  actual  existence  of  the  body,  which  is  explained 
through  duration,  and  may  be  defined  by  time  —  that  is  (II.  viii. 
Coroll.),  we  do  not  assign  to  it  duration,  except  while  the  body 
endures.  Yet,  as  there  is  something,  notwithstanding,  which  is 
conceived  by  a  certain  eternal  necessity  through  the  very  essence 
of  God  (last  Prop.),  this  something,  which  appertains  to  the 
essence  of  the  mind,  will  necessarily  be  eternal.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  This  idea,  which  expresses  the  essence  of  the  body 
under  the  form  of  eternity,  is,  as  we  have  said,  a  certain  mode 


THE  ETHICS  189 

of  thinking,  which  belongs  to  the  essence  of  the  mind,  and  is 
necessarily  eternal.  Yet  it  is  not  possible  that  we  should  remem- 
ber that  we  existed  before  our  body,  for  our  body  can  bear  no 
trace  of  such  existence,  neither  can  eternity  be  denned  in  terms 
of  time,  or  have  any  relation  to  time.  But,  notwithstanding,  we 
feel  and  know  that  we  are  eternal.  For  the  mind  feels  those 
'things  that  it  conceives  by  understanding,  no  less  than  those 
things  that  it  remembers.  For  the  eyes  of  the  mind,  whereby  it 
sees  and  observes  things,  are  none  other  than  proofs.  Thus, 
although  we  do  not  remember  that  we  existed  before  the  body, 
yet  we  feel  that  our  mind,  in  so  far  as  it  involves  the  essence  of 
the  body,  under  the  form  of  eternity,  is  eternal,  and  that  thus 
its  existence  cannot  be  denned  in  terms  of  time,  or  explained 
through  duration.  Thus  our  mind  can  only  be  said  to  endure, 
and  its  existence  can  only  be  defined  by  a  fixed  time,  in  so  far 
as  it  involves  the  actual  existence  of  the  body.  Thus  far  only  has 
it  the  power  of  determining  the  existence  of  things  by  time,  and 
conceiving  them  under  the  category  of  duration. 

PROP.  XXIV.  The  more  we  understand  particular  things,  the 
more  do  we  understand  God. 

Proof.  —  This  is  evident  from  I.  xxv.  Coroll. 

PROP.  XXV.  The  highest  endeavour  of  the  mind,  and  the 
highest  virtue  is  to  understand  things  by  the  third  kind  of  know- 
ledge. 

Proof.  —  The  third  kind  of  knowledge  proceeds  from  an  ade- 
quate idea  of  certain  attributes  of  God  to  an  adequate  know- 
ledge of  the  essence  of  things  (see  its  definition  II.  xl.  note  ii.); 
and,  in  proportion  as  we  understand  things  more  in  this  way, 
we  better  understand  God  (by  the  last  Prop.);  therefore  (IV. 
xxviii.)  the  highest  virtue  of  the  mind,  that  is  (IV.  Def.  viii.)  the 
power,  or  nature,  or  (III.  vii.)  highest  endeavour  of  the  mind,  is 
to  understand  things  by  the  third  kind  of  knowledge.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXVI.  In  proportion  as  the  mind  is  more  capable  of 
understanding  things  by  the  third  kind  of  knowledge,  it  desires 
more  to  understand  things  by  that  kind. 

Proof.  —  This  is  evident.  For,  in  so  far  as  we  conceive  the 
mind  to  be  capable  of  conceiving  things  by  this  kind  of  know- 


i9o  SPINOZA 

ledge,  we,  to  that  extent,  conceive  it  as  determined  thus  to  con- 
ceive things;  and  consequently  (Def.  of  the  Emotions,  L),  the 
mind  desires  so  to  do,  in  proportion  as  it  is  more  capable  thereof. 
\>.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXVII.  Fom  this  third  kind  oj  knowledge  arises  the 
highest  possible  mental  acquiescence. 

Proof.  —  The  highest  virtue  of  the  mind  is  to  know  God  (IV. 
xxviii.),  or  to  understand  things  by  the  third  kind  of  knowledge 
(V.  xxv.),  and  this  virtue  is  greater  in  proportion  as  the  mind 
knows  things  more  by  the  said  kind  of  knowledge  (V.  xxiv.) : 
consequently,  he  who  knows  things  by  this  kind  of  knowledge 
passes  to  the  summit  of  human  perfection,  and  is  therefore 
(Def.  of  the  Emotions,  ii.)  affected  by  the  highest  pleasure, 
such  pleasure  being  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  himself  and 
his  own  virtue;  thus  (Def.  of  the  Emotions,  xxv.),  from  this  kind 
of  knowledge  arises  the  highest  possible  acquiescence.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXVIII.  The  endeavour  or  desire  to  know  things  by 
the  third  kind  oj  knowledge  cannot  arise  from  the  first,  but  from 
the  second  kind  of  knowledge. 

Proof.  —  This  proposition  is  self-evident.  For  whatsoever  we 
understand  clearly  and  distinctly,  we  understand  either  through 
itself,  or  through  that  which  is  conceived  through  itself;  that  is, 
ideas  which  are  clear  and  distinct  in  us,  or  which  are  referred 
to  the  third  kind  of  knowledge  (II.  xl.  note  ii.)  cannot  follow 
from  ideas  that  are  fragmentary  and  confused,  and  are  referred 
to  knowledge  of  the  first  kind,  but  must  follow  from  adequate 
ideas,  or  ideas  of  the  second  and  third  kind  of  knowledge ;  there- 
fore (Def.  of  the  Emotions,  i.),  the  desire  of  knowing  things  by 
the  third  kind  of  knowledge  cannot  arise  from  the  first,  but  from 
the  second  kind.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXIX.  Whatsoever  the  mind  understands  under  the 
form  of  eternity,  it  does  not  understand  by  virtue  of  conceiving  the 
present  actual  existence  of  the  body,  but  by  virtue  of  conceiving 
the  essence  of  the  body  under  the  form  of  eternity. 

Proof.  —  In  so  far  as  the  mind  conceives  the  present  existence 
of  its  body,  it  to  that  extent  conceives  duration  which  can  be 
determined  by  time,  and  to  that  extent  only  has  it  the  power 


THE   ETHICS  191 

of  conceiving  things  in  relation  to  time  (V.  xxi.  II.  xxvi.).  But 
eternity  cannot  be  explained  in  terms  of  duration  (I.  Def.  viii. 
and  explanation).  Therefore  to  this  extent  the  mind  has  not  the 
power  of  conceiving  things  under  the  form  of  eternity,  but  it 
possesses  such  power,  because  it  is  of  the  nature  of  reason  to 
conceive  things  under  the  form  of  eternity  (II.  xliv.  Coroll.  ii.), 
and  also  because  it  is  of  the  nature  of  the  mind  to  conceive  the 
essence  of  the  body  under  the  form  of  eternity  (V.  xxiii.),  for 
besides  these  two  there  is  nothing  which  belongs  to  the  essence 
of  mind  (II.  xiii.).  Therefore  this  power  of  conceiving  things 
under  the  form  of  eternity  only  belongs  to  the  mind  in  virtue  of 
the  mind's  conceiving  the  essence  of  the  body  under  the  form 
of  eternity.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  Things  are  conceived  by  us  as  actual  in  two  ways ; 
either  as  existing  in  relation  to  a  given  time  and  place,  or  as  con- 
tained in  God  and  following  from  the  necessity  of  the  divine 
nature.  Whatsoever  we  conceive  in  this  second  way  as  true  or 
real,  we  conceive  under  the  form  of  eternity,  and  their  ideas 
involve  the  eternal  and  infinite  essence  of  God,-  as  we  showed  in 
II.  xlv.  and  note,  which  see. 

PROP.  XXX.  Our  mind,  in  so  far  as  it  knows  itself  and  the 
body  under  the  form  of  eternity,  has  to  that  extent  necessarily  a 
knowledge  of  God,  and  knows  that  it  is  in  God,  and  is  conceived 
through  God. 

Proof.  —  Eternity  is  the  very  essence  of  God,  in  so  far  as  this 
involves  necessary  existence  (I.  Def.  viii.).  Therefore  to  con- 
ceive things  under  the  form  of  eternity,  is  to  conceive  things  in  so 
far  as  they  are  conceived  through  the  essence  of  God  as  real  enti- 
ties, or  in  so  far  as  they  involve  existence  through  the  essence  of 
God ;  wherefore  our  mind,  in  so  far  as  it  conceives  itself  and  the 
body  under  the  form  of  eternity,  has  to  that  extent  necessarily  a 
knowledge  of  God,  and  knows,  &c.  Q.  E.  D. 

PROP.  XXXI.  The  third  kind  of  knowledge  depends  on  the 
mind,  as  its  formal  cause,  in  so  far  as  the  mind  itself  is  eternal. 

Proof.  —  The  mind  does  not  conceive  anything  under  the  form 
of  eternity,  except  in  so  far  as  it  conceives  its  own  body  under 
the  form  of  eternity  (V.  xxix.);  that  is,  except  in  so  far  as  it  is 


192 


SPINOZA 


eternal  (V.  xxi.  xxiii.);  therefore  (by  the  last  Prop.),  in  so  far  as 
it  is  eternal,  it  possesses  the  knowledge  of  God,  which  knowledge 
is  necessarily  adequate  (II.  xlvi.);  hence  the  mind,  in  so  far  as 
it  is  eternal,  is  capable  of  knowing  everything  which  can  follow 
from  this  given  knowledge  of  God  (II.  xl.),  in  other  words,  of 
knowing  things  by  the  third  kind  of  knowledge  (see  Def.  in  II. 
xl.  note  ii.),  whereof  accordingly  the  mind  (III.  Def.  i.),  in  so 
far  as  it  is  eternal,  is  the  adequate  or  formal  cause  of  such  know- 
ledge. Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  In  proportion,  therefore,  as  a  man  is  more  potent  in 
this  kind  of  knowledge,  he  will  be  more  completely  conscious 
of  himself  and  of  God;  in  other  words,  he  will  be  more  perfect 
and  blessed,  as  will  appear  more  clearly  in  the  sequel.  .  .  . 

PROP.  XXXII.  Whatsoever  we  understand  by  the  third  kind 
of  knowledge,  we  take  delight  in,  and  our  delight  is  accompanied 
by  the  idea  of  God  as  cause. 

Proof.  —  From  this  kind  of  knowledge  arises  the  highest  pos- 
sible mental  acquiescence,  that  is  (Def.  of  the  Emotions,  xxv.), 
pleasure,  and  this  acquiescence  is  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  the 
mind  itself  (V.  xxvii.),  and  consequently  (V.  xxx.)  the  idea  also 
of  God  as  cause.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  From  the  third  kind  of  knowledge  necessarily 
arises  the  intellectual  love  of  God.  From  this  kind  of  knowledge 
arises  pleasure  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  God  as  cause,  that 
is  (Def.  of  the  Emotions,  vi.),  the  love  of  God;  not  in  so  far  as  we 
imagine  him  as  present  (V.  xxix.),  but  in  so  far  as  we  understand 
him  to  be  eternal;  this  is  what  I  call  the  intellectual  love  of  God. 

PROP.  XXXIII.  The  intellectual  love  of  God,  which  arises  from 
the  third  kind  of  knowledge,  is  eternal. 

Proof.  —  The  third  kind  of  knowledge  is  eternal  (V.  xxxi.  I. 
Ax.  iii.);  therefore  (by  the  same  Axiom)  the  love  which  arises 
therefrom  is  also  necessarily  eternal.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  Although  this  love  towards  God  has  (by  the  foregoing 
Prop.)  no  beginning,  it  yet  possesses  all  the  perfections  of  love, 
just  as  though  it  had  arisen  as  we  feigned  in  the  Coroll.  of  the 
last  Prop.  Nor  is  there  here  any  difference,  except  that  the  mind 
possesses  as  eternal  those  same  perfections  which  we  feigned  to 


THE  ETHICS  193 

accrue  to  it,  and  they  are  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  God  as 
eternal  cause.  If  pleasure  consists  in  the  transition  to  a  greater 
perfection,  assuredly  blessedness  must  consist  in  the  mind  being 
endowed  with  perfection  itself. 

PROP.  XXXIV.  The  mind  is,  only  while  the  body  endures, 
subject  to  those  emotions  which  are  attributable  to  passions. 

Proof.  —  Imagination  is  the  idea  wherewith  the  mind  con- 
templates a  thing  as  present  (II.  xvii.  note);  yet  this  idea  indi- 
cates rather  the  present  disposition  of  the  human  body  than  the 
nature  of  the  external  thing  (II.  xvi.  Coroll.  ii.).  Therefore  emo- 
tion (see  general  Def.  of  Emotions)  is  imagination,  in  so  far  as  it 
indicates  the  present  disposition  of  the  body;  therefore  (V.  xxi.) 
the  mind  is,  only  while  the  body  endures,  subject  to  emotions 
which  are  attributable  to  passions.  Q.E.D. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows  that  no  love  save  intellectual  love 
is  eternal. 

Note.  —  If  we  look  to  men's  general  opinion,  we  shall  see  that 
they  are  indeed  conscious  of  the  eternity  of  their  mind,  but  that 
they  confuse  eternity  with  duration,  and  ascribe  it  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  memory  which  they  believe  to  remain  after  death. 

PROP.  XXXV.  God  loves  himself  with  an  infinite  intellectual 
love. 

Proof.  —  God  is  absolutely  infinite  (I.  Def.  vi.),  that  is  (II. 
Def.  vi.),  the  nature  of  God  rejoices  in  infinite  perfection;  and 
such  rejoicing  is  (II.  iii.)  accompanied  by  the  idea  of  himself, 
that  is  (I.  xi.  and  Def.  i.),  the  idea  of  his  own  cause:  now  this  is 
what  we  have  (in  V.  xxxii.  Coroll.)  described  as  intellectual  love. 

PROP.  XXXVI.  The  intellectual  love  of  the  mind  towards 
God  is  that  very  love  of  God  whereby  God  loves  himself,  not  in 
so  jar  as  he  is  infinite,  but  in  so  far  as  he  can  be  explained  through 
the  essence  of  the  human  mind  regarded  under  the  form  of  eternity; 
in  other  words,  the  intellectual  love  of  the  mind  towards  God  is  part 
of  the  infinite  love  wherewith  God  loves  himself. 

Proof.  —  This  love  of  the  mind  must  be  referred  to  the  activ- 
ities of  the  mind  (V.  xxxii.  Coroll.  and  III.  iii.) ;  it  is  itself,  indeed, 
an  activity  whereby  the  mind  regards  itself  accompanied  by  the 
idea  of  God  as  cause  (V.  xxxii.  and  Coroll.);  that  is  (I.  xxv. 


194 


SPINOZA 


Coroll.  and  II.  xi.  Coroll.),  an  activity  whereby  God,  in  so  far 
as  he  can  be  explained  through  the  human  mind,  regards  himself 
accompanied  by  the  idea  of  himself;  therefore  (by  the  last  Prop.), 
this  love  of  the  mind  is  part  of  the  infinite  love  wherewith  God 
loves  himself.  Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows  that  God,  in  so  far  as  he  loves 
himself,  loves  man,  and,  consequently,  that  the  love  of  God 
towards  men,  and  the  intellectual  love  of  the  mind  towards 
God  are  identical. 

PROP.  XXXVII.  There  is  nothing  in  nature,  "which  is  contrary 
to  this  intellectual  love,  or  which  can  take  it  away. 

Proof.  —  This  intellectual  love  follows  necessarily  from  the 
nature  of  the  mind,  in  so  far  as  the  latter  is  regarded  through  the 
nature  of  God  as  an  eternal  truth  (V.  xxxiii.  and  xxix.).  If,  there- 
fore, there  should  be  anything  which  would  be  contrary  to  this 
love,  that  thing  would  be  contrary  to  that  which  is  true;  conse- 
quently, that,  which  should  be  able  to  take  away  this  love,  would 
cause  that  which  is  true  to  be  false;  an  obvious  absurdity. 
Therefore  there  is  nothing  in  nature  which  &c.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  The  Axiom  of  Part  IV.  has  reference  to  particular 
things,  in  so  far  as  they  are  regarded  in  relation  to  a  given  time 
and  place :  of  this,  I  think,  no  one  can  doubt. 

PROP.  XXXVIII.  In  proportion  as  the  mind  understands 
more  things  by  the  second  and  third  kind  of  knowledge,  it  is  less 
subject  to  those  emotions  which  are  evil,  and  stands  in  less  jear  of 
death. 

Proof.  —  The  mind's  essence  consists  in  knowledge  (II.  xi.); 
therefore,  in  proportion  as  the  mind  understands  more  things 
by  the  second  and  third  kinds  of  knowledge,  the  greater  will  be 
the  part  of  it  that  endures  (V.  xxix.  and  xxiii.),  and,  consequently 
(by  the  last  Prop.),  the  greater  will  be  the  part  that  is  not  touched 
by  the  emotions,  which  are  contrary  to  our  nature,  or  in  other 
words,  evil  (IV.  xxx.).  Thus,  in  proportion  as  the  mind  under- 
stands more  things  by  the  second  and  third  kinds  of  knowledge, 
the  greater  will  be  the  part  of  it  that  remains  unimpaired,  and, 
consequently,  less  subject  to  emotions,  &c.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  Hence  we  understand  that  point  which  I  touched 


THE  ETHICS  195 

on  in  IV.  xxxix.  note,  and  which  I  promised  to  explain  in  this 
Part;  namely,  that  death  becomes  less  hurtful,  in  proportion 
as  the  mind's  clear  and  distinct  knowledge  is  greater,  and,  con- 
sequently, in  proportion  as  the  mind  loves  God  more.  Again, 
since  from  the  third  kind  of  knowledge  arises  the  highest  possible 
acquiescence  (V.  xxvii.),  it  follows  that  the  human  mind  can  at- 
tain to  being  of  such  a  nature,  that  the  part  thereof  which  we 
have  shown  to  perish  with  the  body  (V.  xxi.)  should  be  of  little 
importance  when  compared  with  the  part  which  endures.  But  I 
will  soon  treat  of  the  subject  at  greater  length. 

PROP.  XXXIX.  He,  who  possesses  a  body  capable  of  the  great- 
est number  of  activities,  possesses  a  mind  whereoj  the  greatest 
part  is  eternal. 

Proof.  —  He,  who  possesses  a  body  capable  of  the  greatest 
number  of  activities,  is  least  agitated  by  those  emotions  which 
are  evil  (IV.  xxxviii.)  —  that  is  (IV.  xxx.),  by  those  emotions 
which  are  contrary  to  our  nature;  therefore  (V.  x.),  he  possesses 
the  power  of  arranging  and  associating  the  modifications  of  the 
body  according  to  the  intellectual  order,  and,  consequently,  of 
bringing  it  about,  that  all  the  modifications  of  the  body  should 
be  referred  to  the  idea  of  God ;  whence  it  will  come  to  pass  that 
(V.  xv.)  he  will  be  affected  with  love  towards  God,  which  (V.  xvi.) 
must  occupy  or  constitute  the  chief  part  of  the  mind;  therefore 
(V.  xxxiii.),  such  a  man  will  possess  a  mind  whereof  the  chief 
part  is  eternal.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  Since  human  bodies  are  capable  of  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  activities,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  they  may  be  of  such 
a  nature,  that  they  may  be  referred  to  minds  possessing  a  great 
knowledge  of  themselves  and  of  God,  and  whereof  the  greatest 
or  chief  part  is  eternal,  and,  therefore,  that  they  should  scarcely 
fear  death.  But,  in  order  that  this  may  be  understood  more 
clearly,  we  must  here  call  to  mind,  that  we  live  in  a  state  of 
perpetual  variation,  and,  according  as  we  are  changed  for  the 
better  or  the  worse,  we  are  called  happy  or  unhappy. 

PROP.  XL.  In  proportion  as  each  thing  possesses  more  of  per- 
fection, so  is  it  more  active  and  less  passive;  and,  vice  versa,  in 
proportion  as  it  is  more  active,  so  is  it  more  perfect. 


196  SPINOZA 

Proof.  —  In  proportion  as  each  thing  is  more  perfect,  it  pos- 
sesses more  of  reality  (II.  Def.  vi.),  and,  consequently  (III. 
iii.  and  note),  it  is  to  that  extent  more  active  and  less  passive. 
This  demonstration  may  be  reversed,  and  thus  prove  that, 
in  proportion  as  a  thing  is  more  active,  so  is  it  more  perfect. 
Q.  E.  D. 

Corollary.  —  Hence  it  follows  that  the  part  of  the  mind  which 
endures,  be  it  great  or  small,  is  more  perfect  than  the  rest.  For 
the  eternal  part  of  the  mind  (V.  xxiii.  xxix.)  is  the  understanding, 
through  which  alone  we  are  said  to  act  (III.  iii.);  the  part  which 
we  have  shown  to  perish  is  the  imagination  (V.  xxi.),  through 
which  only  we  are  said  to  be  passive  (III.  iii.  and  general  Def. 
of  the  Emotions) ;  therefore,  the  former,  be  it  great  or  small,  is 
more  perfect  than  the  latter.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  Such  are  the  doctrines  which  I  had  purposed  to  set 
forth  concerning  the  mind,  in  so  far  as  it  is  regarded  without  rela- 
tion to  the  body;  whence,  as  also  from  I.  xxi.  and  other  places, 
it  is  plain  that  our  mind,  in  so  far  as  it  understands,  is  an  eternal 
mode  of  thinking,  which  is  determined  by  another  eternal  mode 
of  thinking,  and  this  other  by  a  third,  and  so  on  to  infinity;  so 
that  all  taken  together  at  once  constitute  the  eternal  and  infinite 
intellect  of  God. 

PROP.  XLI.  Even  if  we  did  not  know  that  our  mind  is  eternal, 
we  should  still  consider  as  of  primary  importance  piety  and  religion, 
and  generally  all  things  which,  in  Part  IV.,  we  showed  to  be  attrib- 
utable to  courage  and  high-mindedness. 

Proof.  —  The  first  and  only  foundation  of  virtue,  or  the  rule 
of  right  living  is  (IV.  xxii.  Coroll.  and  xxiv.)  seeking  one's  own 
true  interest.  Now,  while  we  determined  what  reason  prescribes 
as  useful,  we  took  no  account  of  the  mind's  eternity,  which  has 
only  become  known  to  us  in  this  Fifth  Part.  Although  we  were 
ignorant  at  that  time  that  the  mind  is  eternal,  we  nevertheless 
stated  that  the  qualities  attributable  to  courage  and  high-minded- 
ness  are  of  primary  importance.  Therefore,  even  if  we  were  still 
ignorant  of  this  doctrine,  we  should  yet  put  the  aforesaid  precepts 
of  reason  in  the  first  place.  Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  The  general  belief  of  the  multitude  seems  to  be  dif- 


THE   ETHICS  197 

ferent.  Most  people  seem  to  believe  that  they  are  free,  in  so  far 
as  they  may  obey  their  lusts,  and  that  they  cede  their  rights,  in 
so  far  as  they  are  bound  to  live  according  to  the  commandments 
of  the  divine  law.  They  therefore  believe  that  piety,  religion, 
and,  generally,  all  things  attributable  to  firmness  of  mind,  are 
burdens,  which,  after  death,  they  hope  to  lay  aside,  and  to  receive 
the  reward  for  their  bondage,  that  is,  for  their  piety  and  religion ; 
it  is  not  only  by  this  hope,  but  also,  and  chiefly,  by  the  fear  of 
being  horribly  punished  after  death,  that  they  are  induced  to  live 
according  to  the  divine  commandments,  so  far  as  their  feeble  and 
infirm  spirit  will  carry  them. 

If  men  had  not  this  hope  and  this  fear,  but  believed  that  the 
mind  perishes  with  the  body,  and  that  no  hope  of  prolonged  life 
remains  for  the  wretches  who  are  broken  down  with  the  burden 
of  piety,  they  would  return  to  their  own  inclinations,  controlling 
everything  in  accordance  with  their  lusts,  and  desiring  to  obey 
fortune  rather  than  themselves.  Such  a  course  appears  to  me  not 
less  absurd  than  if  a  man,  because  he  does  not  believe  that  he  can 
by  wholesome  food  sustain  his  body  for  ever,  should  wish  to  cram 
himself  with  poisons  and  deadly  fare ;  or  if,  because  he  sees  that 
the  mind  is  not  eternal  or  immortal,  he  should  prefer  to  be  out  of 
his  mind  altogether,  and  to  live  without  the  use  of  reason ;  these 
ideas  are  so  absurd  as  to  be  scarcely  worth  refuting. 

PROP.  XLII.  Blessedness  is  not  the  reward  of  virtue,  but  virtue 
itself;  neither  do  we  rejoice  therein,  because  we  control  our  lusts, 
but,  contrariwise,  because  we  rejoice  therein,  we  are  able  to  control 
our  lusts. 

Proof.  —  Blessedness  consists  in  love  towards  God  (V.  xxxvi. 
and  note),  which  love  springs  from  the  third  kind  of  knowledge 
(V.  xxxii.  Coroll.);  therefore  this  love  (III.  iii.  lix.)  must  be  re- 
ferred to  the  mind,  in  so  far  as  the  latter  is  active;  therefore 
(IV.  Def.  viii.)  it  is  virtue  itself.  This  was  our  first  point.  Again, 
in  proportion  as  the  mind  rejoices  more  in  this  divine  love  or 
blessedness,  so  does  it  the  more  understand  (V.  xxxii.);  that  is 
(V.  iii.  Coroll.)  so  much  the  more  power  has  it  over  the  emotions, 
and  (V.  xxxviii.)  so  much  the  less  is  it  subject  to  those  emotions 
which  are  evil ;  therefore,  in  proportion  as  the  mind  rejoices  in  this 


198  SPINOZA 

divine  love  or  blessedness,  so  has  it  the  power  of  controlling  lusts. 
And,  since  human  power  in  controlling  the  emotions  consists 
solely  in  the  understanding,  it  follows  that  no  one  rejoices  in 
blessedness,  because  he  has  controlled  his  lusts,  but,  contrariwise, 
his  power  of  controlling  his  lusts  arises  from  this  blessedness  itself. 
Q.  E.  D. 

Note.  —  I  have  thus  completed  all  I  wished  to  set  forth  touch- 
ing the  mind's  power  over  the  emotions  and  the  mind's  freedom. 
Whence  it  appears,  how  potent  is  the  wise  man,  and  how  much 
he  surpasses  the  ignorant  man,  who  is  driven  only  by  his  lusts. 
For  the  ignorant  man  is  not  only  distracted  in  various  ways  by 
external  causes  without  ever  gaining  the  true  acquiescence  of  his 
spirit,  but  moreover  lives,  as  it  were  unwitting  of,  himself,  and  of 
God,  and  of  things,  and  as  soon  as  he  ceases  to  suffer,  ceases  also 
to  be. 

Whereas  the  wise  man,  in  so  far  as  he  is  regarded  as  such, 
is  scarcely  at  all  disturbed  in  spirit,  but,  being  conscious  of  him- 
self, and  of  God,  and  of  things,  by  a  certain  eternal  necessity, 
never  ceases  to  be,  but  always  possesses  true  acquiescence  of  his 
spirit. 

If  the  way  which  I  have  pointed  out  as  leading  to  this  result 
seems  exceedingly  hard,  it  may  nevertheless  be  discovered.  Needs 
must  it  be  hard,  since  it  is  so  seldom  found.  How  would  it  be  pos- 
sible, if  salvation  were  ready  to  our  hand,  and  could  without 
great  labour  be  found,  that  it  should  be  by  almost  all  men  ne- 
glected ?  But  all  things  excellent  are  as  difficult  as  they  are  rare. 


GOTTFRIED  WILHELM  VON  LEIBNITZ 

(1646-1716) 

THE  MONADOLOGY 

Translated  from  the  French  *  by 
FREDERIC   HENRY   HEDGE 

i.  THE  Monad,  of  which  we  shall  here  speak,  is  merely  a  sim- 
ple substance  entering  into  those  which  are  compound ;  simple, 
that  is  to  say,  without  parts. 

2.  And  there  must  be  simple  substances,  since  there  are  com- 
pounds; for  the  compound  is  only  a  collection  or  aggregation  of 
simple  things. 

3.  Where  there  are  no  parts,  neither  extension  nor  figure,  nor 
divisibility  is  possible ;  and  these  Monads  are  the  veritable  atoms 
of  nature  and,  in  a  word,  the  elements  of  things. 

4.  There  is  thus  no  danger  of  dissolution,  and  there  is  no  con- 
ceivable way  in  which  a  simple  substance  can  perish  naturally. 

5.  For  the  same  reason,  there  is  no  way  in  which  a  simple  sub- 
stance can  begin  naturally,  since  it  could  not  be  formed  by  com- 
position. 

6.  Therefore  we  may  say  that  the  Monads  can  neither  begin 
nor  end  in  any  other  way  than  all  at  once ;  that  is  to  say,  they 
cannot  begin  except  by  creation,  nor  end  except  by  annihilation ; 
whereas  that  which  is  compounded,  begins  and  ends  by  parts. 

7.  There  is  also  no  intelligible  way  in  which  a  Monad  can  be 
altered  or  changed  in  its  interior  by  any  other  created  thing; 
since  it  would  be  impossible  to  transpose  anything  in  it,  or  con- 
ceive in  it  any  internal  movement  which  could  be  excited,  di- 
rected, augmented  or  diminished  within,  such  as  may  take  place 

*  La  Monadologie,  1714  ;  in  Opera  Philosophica,  edited  by  J.  E.  Erdmann, 
Berlin,  1840.  The  English  translation  is  here  reprinted,  with  occasional  minor 
changes,  from  The  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy,  edited  by  William  T. 
Harris,  i,  1867,  pp.  129-137  ;  id.,  F.  H.  Hedge's  Atheism  in  Philosophy,  and 
other  Essays,  Boston,  Roberts  Brothers,  1884,  pp.  245-273. 


200  LEIBNITZ 

in  compound  bodies,  where  there  is  change  of  parts.  The  Monads 
have  no  windows  through  which  anything  can  enter  or  go  forth. 
It  would  be  impossible  for  any  accidents  to  detach  themselves 
and  go  forth  from  the  substances,  as  did  formerly  the  "  sensible 
species  "  of  the  Schoolmen.  Accordingly,  neither  substance  nor 
accident  can  enter  a  Monad  from  without. 

8.  Nevertheless  Monads  must  have  qualities,  otherwise  they 
would  not  even  be  entities.  And  if  simple  substances  did  not  dif- 
fer in  their  qualities,  there  would  be  no  means  by  which  we  could 
become  aware  of  the  changes  of  things,  since  all  that  is  in  com- 
pound bodies  is  derived  from  simple  ingredients,  and  Monads, 
if  they  were  without  qualities,  would  be  indistinguishable  one 
from  another,  since  they  do  not  differ  in  quantity.  Consequently, 
a  plenum  being  supposed,  each  part  of  space  could  in  any  move- 
ment receive  only  the  just  equivalent  of  what  it  had  had  before, 
and  one  state  of  things  would  be  indistinguishable  from  another. 

9.  Moreover,  each  Monad  must  differ  from  every  other,  for 
there  are  never  two  beings  in  nature  perfectly  alike,  and  in  which 
it  is  impossible  to  find  an  internal  difference,  or  one  founded  on 
some  intrinsic  denomination. 

10.  I  assume,  furthermore,  that  every  created  being,  and  con- 
sequently the  created  Monad,  is  subject  to  change;  and  likewise 
that  this  change  is  continual  in  each. 

11.  It  follows,  from  what  we  have  now  said,  that  the  natural 
changes  of  Monads  proceed  from  an  internal  principle,  since 
no  external  cause  can  influence  their  interior. 

12.  But,  besides  the  principle  of  change,  there  must  also  be  a 
detail  of  that  which  changes  [un  detail  de  ce  qui  change},  which 
constitutes,  so  to  speak,  the  specific  nature  and  the  variety  of  the 
simple  substances. 

13.  This  detail  must  involve  multiplicity  in  the  unit  [unite]  or 
in  that  which  is  simple.    For,  as  all  natural  changes  proceed  by 
degrees,  something  changes  and  something  remains  unchanged, 
and  consequently  there  must  be  in  the  simple  substance  a  plural- 
ity of  affections  and  relations,  although  there  are  no  parts. 

14.  This  shifting  state,  which  involves  and  represents  multi- 
plicity in  the  unit,  or  in  the  simple  substance,  is  nothing  but  what 


THE   MONADOLOGY  201 

we  call  Perception,  which  must  be  carefully  distinguished  from 
apperception,  or  consciousness,  as  will  appear  in  the  sequel. 
Here  it  is  that  the  Cartesians  have  especially  failed,  making  no 
account  of  those  perceptions  of  which  we  are  not  conscious.  It 
is  this  that  has  led  them  to  suppose  that  spirits  are  the  only 
Monads,  and  that  there  are  no  souls  of  brutes  or  other  entel- 
echies.  It  is  owing  to  this  that  they  have  vulgarly  confounded 
protracted  torpor  with  actual  death,  and  have  fallen  in  with  the 
scholastic  prejudice,  which  believes  in  souls  entirely  separate 
[from  bodies].  For  this  reason,  also,  ill-affected  minds  have  been 
confirmed  in  the  opinion  that  the  soul  is  mortal. 

15.  The  action  of  the  internal  principle  which  causes  the 
change,  or  the  passage  from  one  perception  to  another,  may  be 
called  Appetition.  It  is  true,  the  desire  cannot  always  completely 
attain  to  every  perception  to  which  it  tends,  but  it  always  attains 
to  something  thereof,  and  arrives  at  new  perceptions. 

1 6.  We  experience  in  ourselves  the  fact  of  a  multiplicity  in  the 
simple  substance,  when  we  find  that  the  least  thought  of  which 
we  are  conscious  includes  a  variety  in  its  object.    Accordingly,  all 
who  admit  that  the  soul  is  a  simple  substance,  are  bound  to  admit 
this  multiplicity  in  the  Monad,  and  M.  Bayle  should  not  have 
found  any  difficulty  in  this  admission,  as  he  has  done  in  his 
Dictionary,  article  "  Rorarius." 

17.  Besides,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Perception  and  its 
consequences  are  inexplicable  by  mechanical  causes,  that  is  to 
say,  by  figures  and  motions.    If  we  imagine  a  machine  so  con- 
structed as  to  produce  thought,  sensation  and  perception,  we 
may  conceive  it  as  magnified  —  the  same  proportions  being  pre- 
served—  to  such  an  extent  that  one  might  enter  it  like  a  mill. 
This  being  supposed,  we  should  find  in  it  on  inspection  only 
pieces  which  impel  each  other,  but  nothing  which  can  explain  a 
perception.   It  is  in  the  simple  substance,  therefore,  and  not  in 
a  compound,  or  in  a  machine,  that  we  must  look  for  the  phe- 
nomenon of  perception.    And  in  the  simple  substance  we  find 
nothing   else  —  nothing,    that    is,    but    perceptions   and    their 
changes.  Therein  also,  and*  therein  only,  consist  all  the  internal 
actions  of  simple  substances. 


202  LEIBNITZ 

1 8.  We   might   give  the  name  of  entelechies   to  all  simple 
substances  or  created  Monads,  inasmuch  as  there  is  in  them  a 
certain  completeness  (perfection),  (exovo-i  TO  a/rcAe's).    There  is  a 
certain  sufficiency  (cd/rap/ceia)  which  makes  them  the  sources  of 
their  own  internal  actions,  and,  as  it  were,  incorporeal  automata. 

19.  If  we  choose  to  give  the  name  of  soul  to  everything  that 
has  perceptions  and  desires  [qppetits],  in  the  general  sense  which 
I  have  just  explained,  then  all  simple  substances  or  created 
Monads  may  be  called  souls.    But  as   feeling  [le  sentiment]  is 
something  more  than  simple  perception,  I  am  willing  that  the 
general  name  of  Monads  or  entelechies  shall  suffice  for  those 
simple  substances  which  have  perception  only,  and  that  the 
term  souls  shall  be  confined  to  those  in  which  perceptions  are 
more  distinct,  and  accompanied  by  memory. 

20.  For  we  experience  in  ourselves  a  state  in  which  we  remem- 
ber nothing,  and  have  no  distinct  perception;  as  when  we  are  in 
a  swoon  or  in  a  profound  or  dreamless  sleep.   In  this  state  the 
soul  does  not  differ  perceptibly  from  a  simple  Monad;  but  since 
this  state  is  not  permanent,  and  since  the  soul  delivers  itself  from 
it,  the  soul  is  something  more  than  a  bare  Monad. 

21.  And  it  does  not  by  any  means  follow,  in  that  case,  that 
the  simple  substance  is  without  perception.    That,  indeed,  is 
impossible,  for  the  reasons  given  above;  for  it  cannot  perish, 
neither  can  it  subsist  without  affection  of  some  kind,  which  is 
nothing  else  than  its  perception.  But  where  there  is  a  great  num- 
ber of  minute  perceptions,  and  where  nothing  is  distinct,  one  is 
stunned;  as  when  we  turn  round  and  round  in  continual  suc- 
cession in  the  same  direction,  whence  arises  a  vertigo,  which 
may  cause  us  to  faint,  and  which  prevents  us  from  distinguishing 
anything.  And  possibly  death  may  produce  this  state  for  a  time 
in  animals. 

22.  And  as  every  present  condition  of  a  simple  substance  is 
a  natural  consequence  of  its  antecedent  condition,  so  its  present 
is  big  with  its  future. 

23.  Then,  as  on  waking  from  a  state  of  stupor,  we  become 
conscious  of  our  perceptions,  we  must  have  perceptions,  although 
unconscious  of  them,  immediately  before  awaking.    For  each 


THE   MONADOLOGY  203 

perceptjon_can  have  no_other  natural  origin  but  an  antecedent 
perception,  as^ej^ry^otionjn^^  be  derivejd  frorn^  one  which^ 
preceded  it. 

24.  Thus  it  appears  that  if  there  were  no  distinction  —  no 
relief,  so  to  speak  —  no  enhanced  flavor  in  our  perceptions,  we 
should  continue  forever  in  a  state  of  stupor;  and  this  is  the 
condition  of  the  naked  Monad. 

25.  And  so  we  see  that  nature  has  given  to  animals  enhanced 
perceptions,  by  the  care  which  she  has  taken  to  furnish  them 
with  organs  which  collect  many  rays  of  light  and.  many  undula- 
tions of  air,  increasing  their  efficacy  by  their  union.    There  is 
something  approaching  to  this  in  odor,  in  taste,  in  touch,  and  per- 
haps in  a  multitude  of  other  senses  of  which  we  have  no  know- 
ledge.    I  shall  presently  explain  how  that  which  passes  in  the 
soul  represents  that  which  takes  place  in  the  organs. 

26.  Memory   gives   to   the  soul  a  kind    of  consecutiveness* 
which  resembles  [imite]  reason,  but  must  be  distinguished  from  it. 
We  observe  that  animals,  having  a  perception  of  something  which 
strikes  them,  and  of  which  they  have  previously  had  a  similar 
perception,  expect,  through  the  representation  of  their  memory, 
the  recurrence  of  that  which  was  associated  with  it  in  their  pre- 
vious perception,  and  incline  to  the  same  feelings  which  they 
then  had.   For  example,  when  we  show  dogs  the  cane,  they  re- 
member the  pain  which  it  caused  them,  and  whine  and  run. 

27.  And  the  lively  imagination,  which  affects  and  excites  them, 
arises  either  from  the  magnitude  or  the  number  of  their  previous 
perceptions.  For  often  a  powerful  impression  produces  suddenly 
the  effect  of  long  habit,  or  of  moderate  perceptions  often  repeated. 

28.  In  men  as  in  brutes,  the  consecutiveness  of  their  per- 
ceptions is    due  to  the  principle  of  memory  —  like  empirical 
physicians,  who  practice  without  theory.    Indeed  we  are  mere 
empirics  in  three-fourths  of  our  acts.  For  example,  when  we  ex- 
pect that  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow,  we  judge  so  empirically, 
because  it  has  always  risen  hitherto.  It  is  only  the  astronomer 
who  judges  by  an  act  of  reason. 

29.  But  the  knowledge  of  necessary  and  eternal  truths  is  what 

*  The  term  is  equivalent  to  association  of  ideas. 


204  LEIBNITZ 

distinguishes  us  from  mere  animals.  It  is  this  which  gives  us 
Reason  and  the  Sciences,  and  raises  us  to  the  knowledge  of  our- 
selves and  of  God;  and  it  is  this  in  us  which  we  call  a  reasonable 
soul  or  spirit  [esprit]. 

30.  It  is  also  by  the  knowledge  of  necessary  truths,  and  by 
their  abstractions,  that  we  rise  to  acts  of  reflection,  which  give 
us  the  idea  of  that  which  calls  itself  "I,"  and  which  lead  us  to 
consider  that  this  or  that  is  within  us.  And  thus,  while  thinking 
of  ourselves,  we  think  of  being,  of  substance,  simple  or  com- 
pound, of  the  immaterial,  and  of  God  himself.    We  conceive 
that  that  which  in  us  is  limited,  is  in  him  without  limit.  And  these 
reflective  acts  furnish  the  principal  objects  of  our  reasonings. 

31.  Our  reasonings  are  founded  on  two  great  principles,  that 
of  contradiction,  by  virtue  of  which  we  judge  that  to  be  false   , 
which  involves  contradiction,  and  that  to  be  true  which  is  opposed 
to,  or  which  contradicts  the  false, 

32.  And  that  of  sufficient  reason,  by  virtue  of  which  we  judge 
that  no  fact  can  be  real  or  existent,  no  statement  true,  unless 
there  be  a  sufficient  reason  why  it  is  thus,  and  not  otherwise, 
although  these  reasons  very  often  cannot  be  known  to  us. 

33.  There  are  also  two  kinds  of  truths,  —  those  of  reasoning 
and  those  of  fact.  Truths  of  reasoning  are  necessary,  and  their 
opposite  is  impossible;  those  of  fact  are  contingent,  and  their 
opposite  is  possible.  When  a  truth  is  necessary,  we  may  discover 
the  reason  of  it  by  analysis,  resolving  it  into  simpler  ideas  and 
truths,  until  we  arrive  at  those  which  are  primitive  [primitifs]. 

34.  It  is  thus  that  mathematicians  by  analysis  reduce  specula- 
tive theorems  and  practical  canons  to  definitions,  Axioms,  and 
postulates. 

35.  And  finally,  there  are  simple  ideas  of  which  no  definition 
can  be  given;  there  are  also  axioms  and  postulates,  in  a  word, 
ultimate  principles,  which  cannot  and  need  not  be  proved.   And 
these  are  identical  propositions,  the  opposite  of  which  contains 
an  express  contradiction. 

36.  But  there  must  also  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  contingent 

• 


THE  MONADOLOGY  205 

resolving  into  particular  reasons  might  run  into  a  detail  without 
bounds,  on  account  of  the  immense  variety  of  things  in  nature, 
and  the  infinite  division  of  bodies.  There  is  an  infinity  of  figures 
and  of  movements,  present  and  past,  which  enter  into  the  effi- 
cient cause  of  my  present  writing;  and  there  is  an  infinity  of 
minute  inclinations  and  dispositions  of  my  soul,  present  and  past, 
which  enter  into  the  final  cause  of  it. 

37.  And  as  all  this  detail  only  involves  other  anterior  or  more 
detailed  contingencies,  each  one  of  which  again  requires  a  similar 
analysis  in  order  to  account  for  it,  we  have  made  no  advance ;  and 
the  sufficient  or  final  reason  must  be  outside  of  the  series  of  this 
detail  of  contingencies  [i.  e.  accidental  causes],  however  infinite 
this  series  may  be. 

38.  And  thus  the  final  reason  of  things  must  be  found  in  a 
necessary  substance,  in  which  the  detail  of  changes  exists  only 
eminently,  as  in  their  source.   And  this  substance  we  call  God. 

39.  Now  this  substance  being  a  sufficient  reason  of  all  this 
detail,  which  also  is  everywhere  linked  together,  there  is  only  one 
God,  and  this  God  suffices. 

40.  We  may  also  conclude  that  this  supreme  substance,  which 
is  unique,  universal,  and  necessary  —  having  nothing  outside  of 
it  which  is  independent  of  it  —  and  which  is  a  simple  sequence  of 
possible  being,  must  be  incapable  of  limits,  and  must  contain 
as  much  of  reality  as  is  possible. 

41.  Whence  it  follows  that  God  is  perfect,  perfection  being 
nothing  but  the  magnitude  of  positive  reality  taken  exactly,  setting 
aside  the  limits  or  bounds  in  that  which  is  limited.   And  where 
there  are  no  bounds,  that  is  to  say,  in  God,  perfection  is  abso- 
lutely infinite. 

42.  It  follows  also  that  the  creatures  have  their  perfections 
from  the  influence  of  God,,  but  they  have  their  imperfections 
from  their  own  nature,  which  is  incapable  of  existing  without 
limits.    For  it  is  by  this  that  they  are  distinguished  from  God. 

43.  It  is  true,  moreover,  that  God  is  not  only  the  source  of 
existences,  but  also  of  essences,  so  far  as  real,  or  of  that  which  is 
real  in  the  possible.  For  the  divine  understanding  is  the  region 
of  eternal  truths,  or  of  the  ideas  on  which  they  depend,  and 


ao6  LEIBNITZ 

without  Him  there  would  be  nothing  real  in  the  possibilities  of 
things,  and  not  only  nothing  existing,  but  also  nothing  possible. 

44.  At  the  same  time,  if  there  be  a  reality  in  the  essences  or 
possibilities,  or  in  the  eternal  truths,  this  reality  must  be  founded 
in  something  existing  and  actual,  consequently  in  the  existence 
of  the  necessary  Being,  in  whom  essence  includes  existence,  or 
with  whom  it  is  sufficient  to  be  possible  in  order  to  be  actual. 

45.  Thus  God  alone  (or  the  necessary  Being)  possesses  this 
privilege,  that  He  must  exist,  if  He  is  possible ;  and  since  nothing 
can  hinder  the  possibility  of  that  which  includes  no  limits,  no 
negation,  and  consequently  no  contradiction,  that  alone  is  suffi- 
cient to  establish  the  existence  of  God  a  priori.  We  have  likewise 
proved  it  by  the  reality  of  eternal  truths.  But  we  have  also  just 
proved  it  a  posteriori  by  showing  that,  since  contingent  beings 
exist,  they  can  have  their  ultimate  and  sufficient  reason  only  in 
some  necessary  Being,  who  contains  the  reason  of  his  existence  in 
himself. 

46.  Nevertheless,  we  must  not  suppose,  as  some  do,  that  eternal 
verities,  being  dependent  upon  God,  are  arbitrary,  and  depend 
upon  his  will,  as  Descartes,  and  afterwards  M.  Poiret,  appear 
to  have  held.  This  is  true  only  of  contingent  truths,  the  principle 
of  which  is  fitness,  or  the  choice  of  the  best;  whereas  necessary 
truths  depend  solely  on  His  understanding,  and  are  its  inner 
object. 

47.  Thus  God  alone  is  the  primitive  unity,  or  the  original 
simple  substance  of  which  all  the  created  or  derived  Monads  are 
the  products;  and  they  are  generated  so  to  speak,  by  continual 
figurations  of  the  Divinity,  from  moment  to  moment,  bounded 
by  the  receptivity  of  the  creature,  of  whose  existence  limitation  is 
an  essential  condition. 

48.  In  God  is  Power,  which  is  the  source  of  all;  also  knowledge, 
which  contains  the  detail  of  ideas;  and,  finally,  Will,  which  gen- 
erates changes  or  products  according  to  the  principle  of  optimism. 
And  this  corresponds  to  what,  in  created  Monads,  constitutes 
the  subject  or  the  basis,  the  perceptive  and  the  appetitive  faculty. 
But  in  God  these  attributes  are  absolutely  infinite  or  perfect;  and 
in  the  created  Monads,  or  in  the  entelechies  (or  perjectihabiae, 


THE    MONADOLOGY  207 

as  Hermolaus  Barbaras  translates  this  word),  they  are  only  imi- 
tations according  to  the  measure  of  their  perfection. 

49.  The  creature  is  said  to  act  externally,  in  so  far  as  it  pos- 
sesses perfection,  and  to  suffer  from  another  [creature]  in  so  far 
as  it  is  imperfect.   Thus  we  ascribe  action  to  the  Monad,  in  so 
far  as  it  has  distinct  perceptions,  and  passivity  [passion],  in  so  far 
as  its  perceptions  are  confused. 

50.  And  one  creature  is  more  perfect  than  another,  in  this,  that 
we  find  in  it  that  which  serves  to  account  a  priori  for  what  takes 
place  in  the  other;  and  it  is  therefore  said  to  act  upon  the  other. 

51.  But  in  simple  substances  this  is  merely  an  ideal  influence 
of  one  Monad  upon  another,  and  it  can  have  its  effect  only  by  the 
intervention  of  God,  inasmuch  as  in  the  ideas  of  God  any  Monad 
has  a  right  to  demand  that  God,  in  regulating  the  rest  from  the 
commencement  of  things,  should  have  regard  to  it.   For  since  a 
created  Monad  can  have  no  physical  influence  on  the  interior  of 
another,  it  is  only  by  this  means  that  one  can  be  dependent  on 
another. 

52.  And  hence  it  is  that  actions  and  passions  in  creatures  are 
mutual.   For  God,  comparing  two  simple  substances,  finds  rea- 
sons in  each  which  oblige  Him  to  adapt  the  one  to  the  other.  Con- 
sequently that  which  is  active  in  one  view,  is  passive  in  another; 
active  in  so  far  as  what  we  clearly  discern  in  it  serves  to  account 
for  that  which  takes  place  in  another,  and  passive  in  so  far  as  the 
reason  of  that  which  passes  in  it  is  found  in  that  which  is  clearly 
discerned  in  another. 

53.  Now,  as  in  the  ideas  of  God  there  is  an  infinity  of  possible 
worlds,  and  as  only  one  can  exist,  there  must  be  a  sufficient  rea- 
son for  the  choice  of  God,  which  determines  Him  to  decide  upon 
one  rather  than  another. 

54.  ^And  this  reason  can  be  no  other  than  fitness,  derived  from 
the  different  degrees  of  perfection  which  these  worlds  contain, 
since  each  possible  world  has  a  claim  to  exist  according  to  the 
measure  of  perfection  which  it  enfolds. 

55.  And  this  is  the  cause  of  the  existence  of  that  Best,  which 
the  wisdom  of  God  discerns,  his  goodness  chooses,  and  his  power 
effects. 


2o8  LEIBNITZ 

56.  And  this  connection,  or  this  adaptation  of  all  created 
things  to  each,  and  of  each  to  all,  implies  in  each  simple  substance 
relations  which  express  all  the  rest.  Each,  accordingly,  is  a  living 
and  perpetual  mirror  of  the  universe. 

57.  And  as  the  same  city  viewed  from  different  sides  appears 
quite  different,  and  is  perspectively  multiplied,  so,  in  the  infinite 
number  of  simple  substances,  there  are  given,  as  it  were,  so  many 
different  worlds,  which,  nevertheless,  are  only  the  perspectives 
of  a  single  one,  according  to  the  different  points  of  view  of  each 
Monad. 

58.  And  this  is  the  way  to  obtain  the  greatest  possible  variety, 
along  with  the  greatest  possible  order;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  the 
way  to  obtain  the  greatest  possible  perfection. 

59.  Thus  this  hypothesis  (which  I  may  venture  to  pronounce 
demonstrated)  is  the  only  one  which  properly  exhibits  the  great- 
ness of  God.    And  this  M.  Bayle  acknowledges,  when  in  his 
Dictionary  (article  Rorarius)  he  objects  to  it.  He  is  even  disposed 
to  think  that  I  attribute  too  much  to  God,  and  that  I  ascribe 
to  him  impossibilities.   But  he  can  allege  no  reason  for  the  im- 
possibility of  this  universal  harmony,  by  which  each  substance 
expresses  exactly  the  perfections  of  all  the  rest  through  its  rela- 
tions with  them. 

60.  We  see,  moreover,  in  what  I  have  just  stated,  the  a  priori 
reasons  why  things  could  not  be  other  than  they  are.   For  God, 
in  ordering  the  whole,  has  respect  to  each  part,  and  specifically 
to  each  Monad,  whose  nature  being  to  represent,  is  by  nothing 
restrained  from  representing  the  whole  of  things;  although,  it  is 
true,  that  this  representation  must  needs  be  confused,  as  it  re- 
gards the  detail  [le  detail]  of  the  whole  universe,  and  can  be  dis- 
tinct only  in  relation  to  a  small  part  of  things,  that  is,  in  relation 
to  those  which  are  nearest,  or  whose  relations  to  any  given  Monad 
are  greatest.   Otherwise  each  Monad  would  be  a  divinity.   The 
Monads  are  limited,  not  in  the  object,  but  in  the  mode  of  their 
knowledge  of  the  object.   They  all  tend  confusedly  toward  the 
infinite,  toward  the  whole ;  but  they  are  limited  and  distinguished 
by  the  degrees  of  distinctness  in  their  perceptions. 

61.  And  compounds  symbolize  in  this  respect  with  simple 


THE   MONADOLOGY  209 

substances.  For  since  the  world  is  a  plenum,  and  all  matter  con- 
nected, and  as  in  a  plenum  every  movement  has  some  effect  on 
distant  bodies,  in  proportion  to  their  distance,  so  that  each  body 
is  affected  not  only  by  those  in  actual  contact  with  it,  and  feels 
in  some  way  all  that  happens  to  them,  but  also  through  their 
means  is  affected  by  others  in  contact  with  those  by  which  it  is 
immediately  touched  —  it  follows  that  this  intercommunication 
extends  to  any  distance  however  great.  Consequently,  each  body 
feels  all  that  passes  in  the  universe,  so  that  he  who  sees  all,  may 
read  in  each  that  which  passes  everywhere  else,  and  even  that 
which  has  been  and  shall  be,  discerning  in  the  present  that  which 
is  removed  in  time  as  well  as  in  space :  o-v'/xTn/oia  Travra,  said  Hip- 
pocrates. But  each  soul  can  read  in  itself  only  that  which  is 
distinctly  represented  in  it.  It  cannot  unfold  its  laws  at  once, 
for  they  reach  into  the  infinite. 

62.  Thus,  though  every  created  Monad  represents  the  entire 
universe,  it  represents  more  distinctly  the  particular  body  to 
which  it  belongs,  and  whose  entelechy  it  is;  and  as  this  body  ex- 
presses the  entire  universe,  through  the  connection  of  all  matter 
in  a  plenum,  the  soul  represents  also  the  entire  universe  in  repre- 
senting that  body  which  especially  belongs  to  it. 

63.  The  body  belonging  to  a  Monad,  which  is  its  entelechy  or 
soul,  constitutes,  with  its  entelechy,  what  may  be  termed  a  living 
being,  and,  with  its  soul,  what  may  be  called  an  animal.    Now 
this  body  of  a  living  being,  or  of  an  animal,  is  always  organic; 
for  every  Monad,  being  a  mirror  of  the  universe,  according  to  its 
fashion,  and  the  universe  being  arranged  with  perfect  order,  there 
must  be  the  same  order  in  the  representative,  that  is,  in  the  per- 
ceptions of  the  soul,  and  consequently  in  the  body,  according  to 
which  the  universe  is  represented  in  it. 

64.  Thus  each  organic  living  body  is  a  kind  of  divine  machine, 
or  a  natural  automaton,  infinitely:  surpassing  all  artificial  auto- 
mata. A  machine  made  by  human  art  is  not  a  machine  in  all  its 
parts.  For  example,  the  tooth  of  a  brass  wheel  has  parts  or  frag- 
ments which  are  not  artificial  to  us,  and  which  have  nothing  to 
mark  the  machine  in  relation  to  the  use  for  which  the  wheel  is 
designed.    But  nature's  machines,  that  is,  living  bodies,  are  still 


210  LEIBNITZ 

machines  in  their  minutest  parts,  ad  infinitum.  This  constitutes 
the  difference  between  nature  and  art,  that  is  to  say,  between 
the  divine  art  and  ours. 

65.  And  the  author  of  nature  has  been  able  to  exercise  this 
divine  and  infinitely  wonderful  art,  inasmuch  as  every  portion  of 
nature  is  not  only  infinitely  divisible,  as  the  ancients  knew,  but 
is  actually  subdivided  without  end,  each  part  into  parts,  of  which 
each  has  its  own  movement.   Otherwise,  it  would  be  impossible 
that  each  portion  of  matter  should  express  the  universe. 

66.  Whence  it  appears  that  there  is  a  world  of  creatures,  of 
living  beings,  of  animals,  of  entelechies,  of  souls,  in  the  minutest 
portion  of  matter. 

67.  Every  particle  of  matter  may  be  conceived  as  a  garden  of 
plants,  or  as  a  pond  full  of  fishes.  But  each  branch  of  each  plant, 
each  member  of  each  animal,  each  drop  of  their  humors,  is  in 
turn  another  such  garden  or  pond. 

68.  And  although  the  earth  and  the  air  embraced  between 
the  plants  in  the  garden,  or  the  water  between  the  fishes  of  the 
pond,  are  not  themselves  plant  or  fish,  they  nevertheless  contain 
such,  but  mostly  too  minute  for  our  perception. 

69.  Thus  there  is  no  uncultivated  spot,  no  barrenness,  no  death 
in  the  universe,  no  chaos,  no  confusion,  except  in  appearance, 
somewhat  as  it  might  appear  in  a  pond  at  a  distance,  in  which 
one  would  see  a  confused  movement  and  swarming,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  fishes  of  the  pond,  without  separately  distinguishing  the 
fishes  themselves. 

70.  We  see,  then,  that  each  living  body  has  a  governing  entel- 
echy,  which  in  animals  is  the  soul  of  the  animal.  But  the  mem- 
bers of  this  living  body  are  full  of  other  living  beings  —  plants, 
animals  —  each  of  which  has  its  entelechy,  or  regent  soul. 

71.  We  must  not,  however,  suppose,  as  some  who  misappre- 
hend my  thought  have  done,  that  each  soul  has  a  mass  or  portion 
of  matter  proper  to  itself,  or  forever  united  to  it,  and  that  it  con- 
sequently possesses  other  "   'or  living  beings,  destined  forever 
to  its  service.   For  all  bod          s  in  a  perpetual  flux,  like  rivers. 
Their  particles  are  continuaKy  coming  and  going. 

72.  Thus  the  soul  does  n         inge  its  body  except  by  degrees. 


THE   MONADOLOGY  211 

It  is  never  deprived  all  at  once  of  all  its  organs.  There  are  often 
metamorphoses  in  animals,  but  never  metempsychosis,  nor  trans- 
migration of  souls.  Neither  are  there  souls  entirely  separated 
[from  bodies],  nor  genii  without  bodies.  God  alone  is  wholly  with- 
out body. 

73.  For  which  reason,  also,  there  is  never  complete  generation 
nor  complete  death  —  strictly  considered  —  consisting  in  the  sepa- 
ration of  the  soul  from  the  body.  That  which  we  call  generation, 
is  development  and  accretion;    and  that  which  we  call  death, 
is  envelopment  and  diminution. 

74.  Philosophers  have  been  much  troubled  about  the  origin 
of  forms,  of  entelechies,  or  souls.    But  at  the  present  day,  when, 
by  accurate  investigations  of  plants,  insects  and  animals,  they 
have  become  aware  that  the  organic  bodies  of  nature  are  never 
produced  from  chaos  or  from  putrefaction,  but  always  from  a 
seed,  in  which  undoubtedly,  there  had  been  some  prefofmation, 
it  has  been  inferred  that  not  only  the  organic  body  existed  in  that 
seed  before  conception,  but  also  a  soul  in  that  body,  in  one  word, 
the  animal  itself;  and  that,  by  the  act  of  conception,  this  ani- 
mal is  merely  disposed  to  a  greater  transformation,  in  order  to 
become  an  animal  of  another  species.    We  even  see  something 
approaching  this,  outside  of  generation,  as  when  worms  become 
flies,  or  when  caterpillars  become  butterflies. 

75.  Those  animals,  of  which  some  are  advanced  to  a  higher 
grade,  by  means  of  conception,  may  be  called  spermatic;  but  those 
among  them  which  remain  in  their  kind,  that    is  to  say,  the 
greater  portion,  are  born,  multiply,  and  are  destroyed,  like  the 
larger  animals,  and  only  a  small  number  of  the  elect  among  them 
pass  to  a  greater  theatre. 

76.  But  this  is  only  half  the  truth.   I  have  concluded  that  if 
the  animal  does  not  begin  to  be  in  the  order  of  nature,  it  also  does 
not  cease  to  be  in  the  order  of  nature;  and  that  not  only  there  is  no 
generation,  but  no  entire  destruction,  or  death,  strictly  speaking. 
And  these  a  posteriori  conclusions,  drawn  from  experience,  accord 
perfectly  with  my  principles  deduced  a  priori,  as  stated  above. 

77.  Thus  we  may  say,  not  only  that  the  soul  (mirror  of  an  in- 
destructible universe)  is  indestructible,  but  also  the  animal  itself, 


212  LEIBNITZ 

although  its  machine  may  often  perish  in  part,  and  put  off  or 
put  on  organic  spoils. 

78.  These  principles  have  furnished  me  with  a  natural  explana- 
tion of  the  union,  or  rather  the  conformity  between  the  soul  and 
the  organized  body.   The  soul  follows  its  proper  laws,  and  the 
body  likewise  follows  those  which  are  proper  to  it,  and  they  meet 
in  virtue  of  the  preestablished  harmony  which  exists  between  all 
substances,  as  representations  of  one  and  the  same  universe. 

79.  Souls  act  according  to  the  laws  of  final  causes,  by  ap- 
petitions,  means  and  ends;  bodies  act  according  to  the -laws  of 
efficient  causes,  or  the  laws  of  motion.  And  the  two  kingdoms, 
that  of  efficient  causes  and  that  of  final  causes,  are  in  harmony 
with  one  another. 

80.  Descartes  recognized  that  souls  communicate  no  force  to 
bodies,  because  the  quantity  of  force  in  matter  is  always  the  same. 
Nevertheless,  he  believed  that  souls  might  change  the  direction 
of  bodies.  But  this  was  because  the  world  was  at  that  time  igno- 
rant of  the  law  of  nature,  which  requires  the  conservation  of  the 
same  total  direction  in  matter.  Had  he  known  this,  he  would  have 
hit  upon  my  system  of  preestablished  harmony. 

81.  According  to  this  system,  bodies  act  as  if  there  were  no 
souls,  and  souls  act  as  if  there  were  no  bodies ;  and  yet  both  act 
as  though  the  one  influenced  the  other. 

82.  As  to  spirits,  or  rational  souls,  although  I  find  that  at 
bottom  the  same  principle  which  I  have  stated  —  namely,  that 
animals  and  souls  begin  with  the  world  and  end  only  with  the 
world  —  holds  true  with  regard  to  all  animals  and  living  things, 
yet  there  is  this  peculiarity  in  rational  animals,  that  although 
their  spermatic  animalcules,  as  such,  have  only  ordinary  or  sen- 
sitive souls,  yet  as  soon  as  those  of  them  which  are,  so  to  speak, 
elected,  arrive  by  the  act  of  conception  at  human  nature,  their 
sensitive  souls  are  elevated  to  the  rank  of  reason  and  to  the  pre- 
rogative of  spirits. 

83.  Among  other  differences  which  exist  between  spirits  and 
ordinary  souls,  some  of  which  have   already  been  indicated, 
there  is  also  this:  that  souls  in  general  are  living  mirrors,  orjm- 
ages  of  the  universe  of  creatures,  but  spirits  are,  furthermore, 


THE  MONADOLOGY  213 

images  of  Divinity  itself,  or  of  the  Author  of  Nature,  capable  of 
knowing  the  system  of  the  universe,  and  of  imitating  something 
of  it  by  architectonic  ensamples  [echantillons],  each  spirit  being, 
as  it  were,  a  little  divinity  in  its  own  department. 

84.  Hence  spirits  [esprits]  are  able  to  enter  into  a  kind  of  fellow- 
ship with  God.    In  their  view  he  is  not  merely  what  an  inventor . 
is  to  his  machine  (which  is  the  relation  of  God  to  other  creatures), 
but  also  what  a  prince  is  to  his  subjects,  and  even  what  a  father 
is  to  his  children. 

85.  Whence  it  is  easy  to  conclude  that  the  assembly  of  all 
spirits  must  constitute  the  City  of  God,  that  is  to  say,  the  most 
perfect  state  that  is  possible,  under  the  most  perfect  of  monarchs. 

86.  This  City  of  God,  this  truly  universal  monarchy,  is  a  moral 
world  within  the  natural ;  and  it  is  the  most  exalted  and  the  most 
divine  among  the  works  of  God.  It  is  in  this  that  the  glory  of  God 
most  truly  consists,  for  it  would  be  wanting  if  his  greatness  and 
his  goodness  were  not  recognized  and  admired  by  spirits.   It  is 
in  relation  to  this  Divine  City  that  he  possesses,  properly  speak- 
ing, the  attribute  of  goodness,  whereas  his  wisdom  and  his  power 
are  everywhere  manifest. 

87.  As  we  have  established  above  a  perfect  harmony  between 
the  two  natural  kingdoms,  —  the  one  of  efficient,  the  other  of  final 
causes,  —  it  behooves  us  to  notice  here  also  still  another  harmony 
between  the  physical  kingdom  of  nature  and  the  moral  kingdom 
of  grace,  that  is  to  say,  between  God  considered  as  the  architect 
of  the  mechanism  [machine]  of  the  universe,  and  God  considered  t 
as  monarch  of  the  divine  City  of  Spirits. 

88.  This  harmony  makes  all  things  conduce  to  grace  by  nat- 
ural methods.   This  globe,  for  example,  must  be  destroyed  and 
repaired  by  natural  means,  at  such  seasons  as  the  government 
of  spirits  may  require,  for  the  chastisement  of  some  and  recom- 
pense of  others. 

89.  We  may  say,  furthermore,  that  God  as  architect  satisfies 
entirely  God  as  legislator,  and  that  accordingly,  sins  must  carry 
their  punishment  with  them  in  the  order  of  nature,  and  by  virtue 
even  of  the  mechanical  structure  of  things;  and  that  good  deeds 
in  like  manner  will  bring  their  recompense,  through  ttieir  con- 


214  LEIBNITZ 

nection  with  bodies,  although  this  cannot,  and  ought  not  always 
to  happen  immediately. 

90.  Finally,  under  this  perfect  government,  there  will  be  no 
good  deed  without  its  recompense,  and  no  evil  deed  without  its 
punishment,  and  all  must  redound  to  the  advantage  of  the  good, 
that  is  to  say,  of  those  who  are  not  malcontents,  in  this  great 
commonwealth,  who  confide  in  Providence  after  having  done 
their  duty,  and  who  worthily  love  and  imitate  the  Author  of  all 
good,  pleasing  themselves  with  the  contemplation  of  His  perfec- 
tions, following  the  nature  of  genuine  "  pure  love,"  which  makes 
us  blest  in  the  happiness  of  the  loved.  In  this  spirit  the  wise 
and  good  labor  for  that  which  appears  to  be  conformable  to 
the  divine  will,  presumptive  or  antecedent,  contented  the  while 
with  all  that  God  brings  to  pass  by  his  secret,  consequent  and 
decisive  will,  recognizing  that  if  we  were  sufficiently  acquainted 
with  the  order  of  the  universe  we  should  find  that  it  surpasses 
all  the  wishes  of  the  wisest,  and  that  it  could  not  be  made  better 
than  it  is,  not  only  for  all  in  general,  but  for  ourselves  in  particu- 
lar, if  we  are  attached,  as  is  fitting,  to  the  Author  of  All,  not  only 
as  the  architect  and  efficient  cause  of  our  being,  but  also  as  our 
master  and  final  cause,  who  ought  to  be  the  whole  aim  of  our 
volition,  and  who  alone  can  make  us  blest. 


JOHN  LOCKE 

(1632-1704) 

AN  ESSAY  CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDER- 
STANDING* 

BOOK   I 
CHAPTER  I.    INTRODUCTION  t 

*s 

i.  An  inquiry  into  the  understanding,  pleasant  and  useful.  — 
Since  it  is  the  understanding  that  sets  man  above  the  rest  of  sen- 
sible beings,  and  gives  him  all  the  advantage  and  dominion  which 
he  has  over  them,  it  is  certainly  a  subject,  even  for  its  nobleness, 
worth  our  labour  to  inquire  into.  The  understanding,  like  the 
eye,  whilst  it  makes  us  see  and  perceive  all  other  things,  takes  no 
notice  of  itself;  and  it  requires  art  and  pains  to  set  it  at  a  distance, 
and  make  it  its  own  object.  But  whatever  be  the  difficulties  that 
lie  in  the  way  of  this  inquiry,  whatever  it  be  that  keeps  us  so 
much  in  the  dark  to  ourselves,  sure  I  am  that  all  the  light  we  can 
let  in  upon  our  own  minds,  all  the  acquaintance  we  can  make 

*  London,  1690  ;  2d  enl.  ed.  1694;  3d  ed.  1697  ;  4th  enl.  ed.  1700  ;  ed.  A.  C. 
Eraser,  2  vols.  Oxford,  1894.  The  body  of  the  present  text  has  been  compared 
with  that  of  Eraser's  edition.  Deviations  from  the  first  edition  of  the  Essay  found 
by  him  in  the  three  other  editions  of  Locke's  lifetime  are  shown  by  brackets, 
f  The  origin  of  the  Essay  is  thus  told  by  Locke  in  his  introductory  Epistle:  — 
"  Were  it  fit  to  trouble  thee  with  the  history  of  this  Essay,  I  should  tell  thee, 
that  five  or  six  friends,  meeting  at  my  chamber,  and  discoursing  on  a  subject 
very  remote  from  this,  found  themselves  quickly  at  a  stand  by  the  difficulties 
that  rose  on  every  side.  After  we  had  awhile  puzzled  ourselves,  without  com- 
ing any  nearer  a  resolution  of  those  doubts  which  perplexed  us,  it  came  into 
my  thoughts,  that  we  took  a  wrong  course  ;  and  that,  before  we  set  ourselves 
upon  inquiries  of  that  nature,  it  was  necessary  to  examine  our  own  abilities, 
and  see  what  objects  our  understandings  were  or  were  not  fitted  to  deal  with. 
This  I  proposed  to  the  company,  who  all  readily  assented ;  and  thereupon  it 
was  agreed,  that  this  should  be  our  first  inquiry.  Some  hasty  and  undigested 
thoughts,  on  a  subject  I  had  never  before  considered,  which  I  set  down  against 
our  next  meeting,  gave  the  first  entrance  into  this  discourse,  which,  having  been 
thus  begun  by  chance,  was  continued  by  intreaty;  written  by  incoherent  parcels  ; 
and,  after  long  intervals  of  neglect,  resumed  again,  as  my  humour  or  occasions 
permitted;  and  at  last,  in  a  retirement,  where  an  attendance  on  my  health  gave 
me  leisure,  it  was  brought  into  that  order  thou  now  seest  it." 


< 


216  LOCKE 

with  our  own  understandings,  will  not  only  be  very  pleasant,  but 
bring  us  great  advantage  in  directing  our  thoughts  in  the  search 
of  other  things. 

2.  Design.  —  This  therefore  being  my  purpose,  to  inquire 
into  the  original,  certainty,  and  extent  of  human  knowledge, 
together  with  the  grounds  and  degrees  of  belief,  opinion}  and 
assent,  I  shall  not  at  present  meddle  with  the  physical  considera- 
tion of  the  mind,  or  trouble  myself  to  examine  wherein  its  essence 
consists  or  by  what  motions  of  our  spirits,  or  alteration's  of  bur 
bodies,  we  come  to  have  any  sensation  by  our  organs,  or  any 
ideas  in  our  understandings;    and  whether  those  ideas  do,  in 
their  formation,  any  or  all  of  them,  depend  on  matter  or  not: 
these  are  speculations  which,  however  curious  and  entertaining, 
I  shall  decline,  as  lying  out  of  my  way  in  the  design  I  am  now 
upon.  ;  It  shall  suffice  to  my  present  purpose,  to  consider  the  dis- 
cerning faculties  of  a  man,  as  they  are  employed  about  the  objects 

.^which  they  have  to  do -with;  and  I  shall  imagine  I  have  not  wholly 
misemployed  myself  in  the  thoughts  I  shall  have  on  this  occasions, 
if,  in  this  historical,  plain  method,  I  can  give  any  account  of  the 
ways  whereby  our  understandings  come  to  attain  those  notions  ol 
things  we  have,  and  can  set  down  any  measures  of  the  certainty, 
of  our  knowledge,  or  the  grounds  of  those  persuasions  which  are 
to  be  found  amongst  men,  so  various,  different,  and  wholly  con- 
tradictory ;  and  yet  asserted  somewhere  or  other  with  such  assur- 
ance and  confidence,  that  he  that  shall  take  a  view  of  the  opinions 
of  mankind,  observe  their  opposition,  and  at  the  same  time  con- 
sider the  fondness  and  devotion  wherewith  they  are  embraced, 
the  resolution  and  eagerness  wherewith  they  are  maintained,  may 
perhaps  have  reason  to  suspect  that  either  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  truth  at  all,  or  that  mankind  hath  no  sufficient  means  to  attain 
a  certain  knowledge  of  it. 

3.  Method.  —  It  is  therefore  worth  while  to  search  out  the 
bounds  between  opinion  and  knowledge,  and  examine  by  what 
measures,  in  things  whereof  we  have  no  certain  knowledge,  we 
ought  to  regulate  our  assent,  and  moderate  our  persuasions.  In 
order  whereunto,  I  shall  pursue  this  following  method :  — 

First.   I  shall  inquire  into  the  original  of  those  ideas,  notions, 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    217 

or  whatever  else  you  please  to  call  them,  which  a  man  observes, 
and  is  conscious  to  himself  he  has  in  his  mind  ;  and  the  ways 
whereby  the  understanding  comes  to  be  furnished  with  them. 

Secondly.  I  shall  endeavour  to  show  what  knowledge  the 
understanding  hath  by  those  ideas,  and  the  certainty,  evidence, 
and  extent  of  it. 

Thirdly.  I  shall  make  some  inquiry  into  the  nature  and 
grounds  of  faith  or  opinion ;  whereby  I  mean,  that  assent  which 
we  give  to  any  proposition  as  true,  of  whose  truth  yet  we  have 
no  certain  knowledge:  and  here  we  shall  have  occasion  to  ex- 
amine the  reasons  and  degrees  of  assent. 


CHAPTER  II.    NO   INNATE   PRINCIPLES  IN 
THE  MIND 

T.  The  way  shown  how  we  come  by  any  knowledge,  sufficient 
to  prove  it  not  innate.  —  It  is  an  established  opinion  amongst 
some  men,  'that  there  are  in  the  understanding  certain  innate 
principles ;  some  primary  notions,  KOLVOL  cWouu,  characters,  as 
it  were,  stamped  upon  the  mind  of  man,  which  the  soul  receives 
in  its  very  first  being,  and  brings  into  the  world  with  it.  It  would 
be  sufficient  to  convince  unprejudiced  readers  of  the  falseness 
of  this  supposition,  if  I  should  only  show  (as  I  hope  I  shall  in  the 
following  parts  of  this  discourse)  how  men,  barely  by  the  use  of 
their  natural  faculties,  may  attain  to  all  the  knowledge  they  have, 
without  the  help  of  any  innate  impressions,  and  may  arrive  at 
certainty,  without  any  such  original  nations  or  principles.  For  I 
imagine  any  one  will  easily  grant  that  it  would  be  impertinent 
to  suppose  the  ideas  of  colours  innate  in  a  creature  to  whom  God 
hath  given  sight,  and  a  power  to  receive  them  by  the  eyes  from 
external  objects:  and  no  less  unreasonable  would  it  be  to  attri- 
bute several  truths  to  the  impressions  of  nature  and  innate  char- 
acters, when  we  may  observe  in  ourselves  faculties  fit  to  attain 
as  easy  and  certain  knowledge  of  them,  as  if  they  were  origi- 
nally imprinted  on  the  mind. 

But  because  a  man  is  not  permitted  without  censure  to  follow 


2i8  LOCKE 

his  own  thoughts  in  the  search  of  truth,  when  they  lead  him  ever 
so  little  out  of  the  common  road,  I  shall  set  down  the  reasons 
that  made  me  doubt  of  the  truth  of  that  opinion,  as  an  excuse  for 
my  mistake,  if  I  be  in  one;  which  I  leave  to  be  considered  by 
those  who,  with  me,  dispose  themselves  to  embrace  truth  wher- 
ever they  find  it. 

2.  General  assent  the  great  argument.  —  There    is   nothing 
more  commonly  taken  for  granted  than  that  there  are  certain 
principles,  both    speculative    and  practical  (for  they  speak  of 
both),  universally  agreed  upon  by  all  mankind,  which  therefore, 
they  argue,  must  needs  be  constant  impressions,  which  the  souls 
of  men  receive  in  their  first  beings,  and  which  they  bring  into  the 
world  with  them,  as  necessarily  and  really  as  they  do  any  of  their 
inherent  faculties. 

3.  Universal   consent   proves  nothing    innate.  —  This  argu- 
mern^  drawn  from  universal  consent,  has  this  misfortune  in  it, 
that  if  it  were  true  in  matter  of  fact,  that  there  were  certain 
truths  wherein  all  mankind  agreed,  it  would  not  prove  them 
innate,  if  there  can  be  any  other  way  shown  how  men  may  come 
to  that  universal  agreement  in  the  things  they  do  consent  in, 
which  I  presume  may  be  done. 

4.  "What  is,  is,"  and  "it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to 
be  and  not  to  be"  not  universally  assented  to.  —  But,  which  is 
worse,  this  argument  of  universal  consent,  which  is  made  use 
of  to  prove  innate  principles,  seems  to  me  a  demonstration  that 
there  are  none  such;  because  there  are  none  to  wjn'chjill  man- 
kind give  an  universal  assent.  I  shall  begin  with  the  speculative, 
and  instance  in  those  magnified  principles  of  demonstration, 
" whatsoever  is,  is,"  and  "it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to 
be  and  not  to  be;"  which,  of  all  others,  I  think  have  the  most 
allowed  title  to  innate.    These  have  so  settled  a  reputation  of 
maxims  universally  received,  that  it  will  no  doubt  be  thought 
strange  if  any  one  should  seem  to  question  it.    But  yet  I  take 
liberty  to  say,  that  these  propositions  are  so  far  from  having  an 
universal  assent,  that  there  are  a  great  part  of  mankind  to  whom 
they  are  not  so  much  as  known. 

5.  Not  on  the  mind  naturally  imprinted,  because  not  known 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    219 

to  children,  idiots,  &>c.  —  For,  first,  it  is  evident  that  all  chil- 
dren and  idiots  have  not  the  least  apprehension  or  thought  of 
them;  and  the  wanUaf-thaLis^enough  to  destroy  fjiaijirm/prsfl] 
assent  which  must  needs  be  the  necessary  concomitant  of  all 
innate  truths :  it  seeming  to  me  near  a  contradiction  to  say  that 
there  are  truths  imprinted  on  the  soul  which  it  perceives  or  under- 
stands not;  imprinting,  if  it  signify  anything,  being  nothing  else 
but  the  making  certain  truths  to  be  perceived.  j^oj^ojymprint 
anything_oiL  the  n»ad~-without-the~ mindV  perceiving  it,  seems 
to  mj^JrflTjjIy  .-intelligible.  If  therefore  children  and  idiots  have 
souls,  have  minds,  with  those  impressions  upon  them,  they  must 
unavoidably  perceive  them,  and  necessarily  know_.and-assent  to 
thesejtruths;  which  since  they  do  not,  it  is  evident  that  there 
are  no  such  impressions.  For  if  they  are  not  notions  naturally 
imprinted,  how  can  they  be  innate?  and  if  they  are  notions 
imprinted,  how  can  they  be  unknown  ?  To  say  a  notion  is  im- 
printed on  the  mind,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  to  say  that  the 
mind  is  ignorant  of  it,  and  never  yet  took  notice  of  it,  is  to  make 
this  impression  nothing.  No  proposition  can  be  said  to  be  in 
the  mind  which  it  never  yet  knew,  which  it  was  never  yet  con- 
scious of.  For  if  any  one  may,  then,  by  the  same  reason,  all 
propositions  that  are  true,  and  the  mind  is  capable  of  ever  assent- 
ing to,  may  be  said  to  be  in  the  mind,  and  to  be  imprinted :  since, 
if  any  one  can  be  said  to  be  in  the  mind,  which  it  never  yet  knew, 
it  must  be  only  because  it  is  capable  of  knowing  it,  and  so  the 
mind  is  of  all  truths  it  ever  shall  know.  Nay,  thus  truths  may 
be  imprinted  on  the  mind  which  it  never  did  nor  ever  shall  know; 
for  a  man  may  live  long,  and  die  at  last  in  ignorance  of  many 
truths  which  his  mind  was  capable  of  knowing,  and  that  with 
certainty.  So  that  if  the  capacity  of  knowing  be  the  natural  im- 
pression contended  for,  all  the  truths  a  man  ever  comes  to  know 
will,  by  this  account,  be  every  one  of  them  innate ;  and  this  great 
point  will  amount  to  no  more,  but  only  to  a  very  improper  way 
of  speaking;  which,  whilst  it  pretends  to  assert  the  contrary, 
says  nothing  different  from  those  who  deny  innate  principles. 
For  nobody,  I  think,  ever  denied  that  the  mind  was  capable 
of  knowing  several  truths.  The  capacity,  they  say,  is  innate, 


LOCKE 

the  knowledge  acquired.  But  then  to  what  end  such  contest  for 
certain  innate  maxims  ?  If  truths  can  be  imprinted  on  the  under- 
standing without  being  perceived,  I  can  see  no  difference  there 
can  be  between  any  truths  the  mind  is  capable  of  knowing  in 
respect  of  their  original:  they  must  all  be  innate  or  all  adventi- 
tious; in  vain  shall  a  man  go  about  to  distinguish  them.  He 
therefore, that  talks  of  innate  notions  in  the  understanding,  can- 
not (if  he  intend  thereby  any  distinct  sort  of  truths)  mean  such 
truths  to  be  in  the  understanding  as  it  never  perceived,  and  is 
yet  wholly  ignorant  of.  For  if  these  words  (to  be  in  the  under- 
standing) have  any  propriety,  they  signify  to  be  understood;  so 
that  to  be  in  the  understanding  and  not  to  be  understood,  to  be 
in  the  mind  and  never  to  be  perceived,  is  all  one  as  to  say  any- 
thing is  and  is  not  in  the  mind  or  understanding.  If  therefore 
these  two  propositions,  "Whatsoever  is,  is,"  and  "it  is  impossible 
for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be,"  are  by  nature  imprinted, 
children  cannot  be  ignorant  of  them;  infants,  and  all  that  have 
souls,  must  necessarily  have  them  in  their  understandings,  know 
the  truth  of  them,  and  assent  to  it. 

6.  That  men  know  them  when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason, 
answered.  —  To  avoid  this,  it  is  usually  answered,  that  all  men 
know  and  assent  to  them,  when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason, 
and  this  is  enough  to  prove  them  innate.  I  answer:  — 

7.  Doubtful  expressions,  that  have  scarce  any  signification, 
go  for  clear  reasons  to  those  who,  being  prepossessed,  take  not 
the  pains  to  examine  even  what  they  themselves  say.    For,  to 
apply  this  answer  with  any  tolerable  sense  to  our  present  pur- 
pose, it  must  signify  one  of  these  two  things ;  either  that  as  soon 
as  men  come  to  the  use  of  reason  these  supposed  native  inscrip- 
tions come  to  be  known  and  observed  by  them,  or  else  that  the 
use  and  exercise  of  men's  reason  assists  them  in  the  discovery  of 
these  principles,  and  certainly  makes  them  known  to  them. 

8.  //  reason  discovered  them,  that  would  not  prove  them  in- 
nate. —  If  they  mean,  that  by  the  use  of  reason  men  may  dis- 
cover these  principles,  and  that  this  is  sufficient  to  prove  them 
innate;  their  way  of  arguing  will  stand  thus,  viz.,  that  whatever 
truths  reason  can  certainly  discover  to  us,  and  make  us  firmly 


ESSAY  C)N  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING 

f 

assent  to,  those  are  all  naturally  imprinted  on  the  mind;  since 
that  universal  assent,  which  is  made  the  mark  of  them,  amounts 
to  no  more  but  this,  that  by  the  use  of  reason  we  are  capable  to 
come  to  a  certain  knowledge  of  and  assent  to  them;  and,  by  this 
means,  there  will  be  no  difference  between  the  maxims  of  the 
mathematicians,  and  theorems  they  deduce  from  them :  all  must 
be  equally  allowed  innate,  they  being  all  discoveries  made  by 
the  use  of  reason,  and  truths  that  a  rational  creature  may  cer- 
tainly come  to  know,  if  he  apply  his  thoughts  rightly  that  way. 

9.  //  is  false  that  reason  discovers  them.  —  But  how  can  these 
men  think  the  use  of  reason  necessary  to  discover  principles  that 
are  supposed  innate,  when  reason  (if  we  may  believe  them)  is 
nothing  else  but  the  faculty  of  deducing  unknown  truths  from 
principles  or  propositions  that  are  already  known?  That  cer- 
tainly can  never  be  thought  innate  which  we  have  need  of  reason 
to  discover;  unless,  as  I  have  said,  we  will  have  all  the  certain 
truths  that  reason  ever  teaches  us,  to  be  innate.  We  may  as  well 
think  the  use  of  reason  necessary  to  make  our  eyes  discover 
visible  objects,  as  that  there  should  be  need  of  reason, ,  jpr  the 
exercise  thereof,  to  make  the  understanding  see  what  is  originally 
engraverjum  it,  and  cannot  be  in  the  understanding  before  it  be 
perceived  by  it.  So  that  to  make  reason  discover  those  truths 
thus  imprinted,  is  to  say  that  the  use  of  reason  discovers  to  a  man 
what  he  knew  before:  and  if  men  have  those  innate  impressed 
truths  originally,  and  before  the  use  of  reason,  and  yet  are  always 
ignorant  of  them  till  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  it  is  in  effect 
to  say,  that  men  know  and  know  them  not  at  the  same  time. 


CHAPTER  III.    NO    INNATE    PRACTICAL    PRIN- 
CIPLES 

i.  No  moral  principles  so  clear  and  so  generally  received  as 
the  forementioned  speculative  maxims.  —  If  those  speculative 
maxi~~~  —1-'?reof  we  discoursed  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  have 
not  an  actual  universal  assent  from  all  mankind,  as  we  there 
proved,  it  is  much  more  visible  concerning  practical  principles, 


222  LOCKE 

that  they  come  short  of  an  universal  reception;  and  I  think  it 
will  be  hard  to  instance  any  one  moral  rule  which  can  pretend 
to  so  general  and  ready  an  assent  as,  "What  is,  is;"  or  to  be  so 
manifest  a  truth  as  this,  "  That  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing 
to  be  and  not  to  be."  Whereby  it  is  evident  that  they  are  further 
removed  from  a  title  to  be  innate;  and  the  doubt  of  their  being 
native  impressions  on  the  mind  is  stronger  against  those  moral 
principles  than  the  other.  Not  that  it  brings  their  truth  at  all. 
in  question.  They  are  equally  true,  though  not  equally  evident. 
Those  speculative  maxims  carry  their  own  evidence  with  them; 
but  moral  principles  require  reasoning  and  discourse,  and  some 
exercise  of  the  mind,  to  discover  the  certainty  of  their  truth. 
They  lie  not  open  as  natural  characters  engraven  on  the  mind; 
which,  if  any  such  were,  they  must  needs  be  visible  by  them- 
selves, and  by  their  own  light  be  certain  and  known  to  every- 
body. But  this  is  no  derogation  to  their  truth  and  certainty,  no 
more  than  it  is  to  the  truth  or  certainty  of  the  three  angles  of  a 
triangle  being  equal  to  two  right  ones;  because  it  is  not  so  evi- 
dent as  "the  whole  is  bigger  than  a  part,"  nor  so  apt  to  be  as- 
sented to  at  first  hearing.  It  may  suffice  that  these  moral  rules 
j  are  capable  of  demonstration ;  and  therefore  it  is  our  own  fault 
if  we  come  not  to  a  certain  knowledge  of  them.  But  the  igno- 
rance wherein  many  men  are  of  them,  and  the  slowness  of  assent 
wherewith  others  receive  them,  are  manifest  proofs  that  they 
are  not  innate,  and  such  as  offer  themselves  to  their  view  without 
searching. 

2.  Faith  and  justice  not  owned  as  principles  by  all  men.  — 
Whether  there  be  any  such  moral  principles  wherein  all  men  do 
agree,  I  appeal  to  any  who  have  been  but  moderately  conversant 
in  the  history  of  mankind,  and  looked  abroad  beyond  the  smoke 
of  their  own  chimneys.  Where  is  that  practical  truth  that  is 
universally  received  without  doubt  or  question,  as  it  must  be  if 
innate?  Justice,  and  keeping  of  contracts,  is  that  which  most 
men  seem  to  agree  in.  This  is  a  principle  which  is  thought  to 
extend  itself  to  the  dens  of  thieves,  and  the  confederacies  of  the 
greatest  villains;  and  they  who  have  gone  furthest  towards  the 
putting  off  of  humanity  itself,  keep  faith  and  rules  of  justice  one 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     223 

with  another.  I  grant  that  outlaws  themselves  do  this  one 
amongst  another;  but  it  is  without  receiving  these  as  the  innate 
laws  of  nature.  They  practice  them  as  .rules  of  convenience 
within _their__own  communities:  but  it  is  impossible  to  conceive 
that  he  embraces  justice  as  a  practical  principle,  who  acts  fairly 
with  his  fellow-highwayman,  and  at  the  same  time  plunders  or 
kills  the  next  honest  man  he  meets  with.  Justice  and  truth  are 
the  common  ties  of  society;  and  therefore  even  outlaws  and 
robbers,  who  break  with  all  the  world  besides,  must  keep  faith 
and  rules  of  equity  amongst  themselves,  or  else  they  cannot  hold 
together.  But  will  any  one  say,  that  those  that  live  by  fraud  or 
rapine  have  innate  principles  of  truth  and  justice  which  they 
allow  and  assent  to? 

4.  Moral  rules  need  a  proof,  ergo  not  innate.  —  Another 
reason  that  makes  me  doubt  of  any  innate  practical  principles 
is,  that  I  think  there  cannot  any  one  moral  rule  be  proposed 
whereof  a  man  may  not  justly  demand  a  reason;  which  would 
be_jDejie£ily_np^^  o*~so- 

much  as  self-evident;  which  every  innate  principle  must  needs 
be,  andliot  need  any  proof  to  ascertain  its  truth,  nor  want  any 
reason  to  gain  it  approbation.  He  would  be  thought  void  of 
common  sense  who  asked  on  the  one  side,  or  on  the  other  side 
went  to  give  a  reason,  "  why  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to 
be  and  not  to  be."  It  carries  its  own  light  and  evidence  with  it, 
and  needs  no  other  proofTTie  that  understands  the  terms  assents 
to  it  for  its  own  sake,  or  else  nothing  will  ever  be  able  to  prevail 
with  him  to  do  it.  But  should  that  most  unshaken  rule  of  moral- 
ity and  foundation  of  all  social  virtue,  "that  one  should  do  as  he 
would  be  done  unto,"  be  proposed  to  one  who  never  heard  of  it 
before,  but  yet  is  of  capacity  to  understand  its  meaning,  might 
he  not  without  any  absurdity  ask  a  reason  why  ?  And  were  not 
he  that  proposed  it  bound  to  make  out  the  truth  and  reasonable- 
ness of  it  to  him?  Which  plainly  shows  it  not  to  be  innate;  for  if 
it  were  it  could  neither  want  nor  receive  any  proof;  but  must  needs 
(at  least  as  soon  as  heard  and  understood)  be  received  and  as- 
sented to  as  an  unquestionable  truth,  which  a  man  can  by  no 
means  doubt  of.  So  that  the  truth  of  all  these  moral  rules  plainly 


224  LOCKE 

depends  upon  some  other  antecedent  to  them,  and  from  which 
they  must  be  deduced;  which  could  not  be  if  either  they  were 
innate  or  so  much  as  self-evident. 

10.  Men  have  contrary  practical  principles.  —  He  that  will 
carefully  peruse  the  history  of  mankind,  and  look  abroad  into 
the  several  tribes  of  men,  and  with  indifferency  survey  their 
actions,  will  be  able  to  satisfy  himself  that  there  is  scarce  that 
principle  of  morality  to  be  named,  or  rule  of  virtue  to  be  thought 
on,  (those  only  excepted  that  are  absolutely  necessary  to  hold 
society  together,  which  commonly  too  are  neglected  betwixt 
distinct  societies,)  which  is  not  somewhere  or  other  slighted  and 
condemned  by  the*  general  fashion  of  whole  societies  of  men 
governed  by  practical  opinions  and  rules  of  living  quite  opposite 
to  others. 

1 1 .  Whole  nations  reject  several  moral  rules.  —  Here  perhaps 
it  will  be  objected,  that  it  is  no  argument  that  the  rule  is  not 
known,  because  it  is  broken.    I  grant  the  objection  good  where 
men,  though  they  transgress,  yet  disown  not  the  law;  where 
fear  of  shame,  censure,  or  punishment  carries  the  mark  of  some 
awe  it  has  upon  them.    But  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  that  a 
whole  nation  of  men  should  all  publicly  reject  and  renounce 
what  every  one  of  them  certainly  and  infallibly  knew  to  be  a 
law,  for  so  they  must  who  have  it  naturally  imprinted  on  their 
minds.   It  is  possible  men  may  sometimes  own  rules  of  morality 
which  in  their  private  thoughts  they  do  not  believe  to  be  true, 
only  to  keep  themselves  in  reputation  and  esteem  amongst  those 
who  are  persuaded  of  their  obligation.    But  it  is  not  to  b#  im- 
agined that  a  whole  society  of  men  should  publicly  and  pro- 
fessedly disown  and  cast  off  a  rule  which  they  could  not  in  their 
own  minds  but  be  infallibly  certain  was  a  law;  nor  be  ignorant 
that  all  men  they  should  have  to  do  with  knew  it  to  be  such ;  and 
therefore  must  every  one  of  them  apprehend  from  others  all  the 
contempt  and  abhorrence  due  to  one  who  professes  himself  void 
of  humanity ;  and  one  who,  confounding  the  known  and  natural 
measures  of  right  and  wrong,  cannot  but  be  looked  on  as  the 
professed  enemy  of  their  peace  and  happiness.  Whatever  prac- 
tical principle  is  innate,  cannot  but  be  known  to  every  one  to  be 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     2- 

just  and  good.  It  is  therefore  little  less  than  a  contradiction  to 
suppose^thai  ^us  of  men  should,  both  in  their  pro- 

ifb&iona  emu  ,  unanimously  and  universally  gi\ 

to  what,  by  the  most  invincible  evidence,  every  one  of  them 
knew  to  bejrue^ right,  and  good.  This  is  enough  to  satisfy  us 
that  no  practical  rule  which  is  anywhere  universally,  and  with 
public  approbation  or  allowance,  transgressed,  can  be  supposed 
innate.  But  I  have  something  further  to  add  in  answer  to  this 
objection. 

14.  Those  who  maintain  innate  practical  principles,  tell  us  not 
•what  they  are.  —  The  difference  there  is  amongst  men  in  their 
practical  principles  is  so  evident  that  I  think  I  need  say  no  more 
to  evince  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  find  any  innate  moral  rules 
by  this  mark  of  general  assent;  and  it  is  enough  to  make  one 
suspect  that  the  supposition  of  such  innate  principles  is  but  an 
opinion  taken  up  at  pleasure,  since  those  who  talk  so  confidently 
of  them  are  so  sparing  to  tell  us  which  they  are.  This  might  with 
justice  be  expected  from  those  men  whoTay  stress  upon  this 
opinion ;  and  it  gives  occasion  to  distrust  either  their  knowledge 
or  charity,  who,  declaring  that  God  has  imprinted  on  the  minds 
of  men  the  foundations  of  knowledge  and  the  rules  of  living, 
are  yet  so  little  favourable  to  the  information  of  their  neighbours 
or  the  quiet  of  mankind,  as  not  to  point  out  to  them  which  they 
are,  in  the  variety  men  are  distracted  with.  But,  in  truth,  were 
there  any  such  innate  principles  there  would  be  no  need  to  teach 
them.  Did  men  find  such  innate  propositions  stamped  on  their 
mindr,  they  would  easily  be  able  to  distinguish  them  from  other 
truths  that  they  afterwards  learned  and  deduced  from  them,  and 
there  would  be  nothing  more  easy  than  to  know  what  and  how 
many  they  were.  There  could  be  no  more  doubt  about  their 
number,  than  there  is  about  the  number  of  our  fingers ;  and  it  is 
like  then  every  system  would  be  ready  to  give  them  us  by  tale. 
But  since  nobody,  that  I  know,  has  ventured  yet  to  give  a  cata- 
logue of  them,  they  cannot  blame  those  who  doubt  of  these  in- 
nate principles,  since  even  they  who  require  men  to  believe  that 
there  are  such  innate  propositions,  do  not  tell  us  what  they  are. 

''  easy  to  foresee,  that  if  different  men  of  different  sects  should 


226  LOCKE 

go  about  to  give,  us  a  list  of  those  innate  practical  principles, 
they  would  set  down  only  such  as  suited  their  distinct  hypotheses, 
and  were  fit  to  support  the  doctrines  of  their  particular  schools 
or  churches;  a  plain  evidence  that  there  are  no  such  innate  truths. 
Nay,  a  great  part  of  men  are  so  far  from  finding  any  such  innate 
moral  principles  in  themselves,  that  by  denying  freedom  to  man- 
kind, and  thereby  making  men  no  other  than  bare  machines, 
they  take  away  not  only  innate,  but  all  moral  rules  whatsoever, 
and  leave  not  a  possibility  to  believe  any  such  to  those  who  can- 
not conceive  how  anything  can  be  capable  of  a  law  that  is  not  a 
free  agent;  and  upon  that  ground  they  must  necessarily  reject 
all  principles  of  virtue  who  cannot  put  morality  and  mechanism 
together,  which  are  not  very  easy  to  be  reconciled  or  made  con- 
sistent. 


BOOK  II 

CHAPTER  I.    OF    IDEAS   IN   GENERAL,    AND 
THEIR  ORIGINAL 

1.  Idea  is  the  object  of  thinking.  —  Every  man  being  con- 
scious to  himself,  that  he  thinks,  and  that  which  his  mind  is 
applied  about,  whilst  thinking,  being  the  ideas  that  .are  there^  it 
Is  past  doubt  that  men  have  in  their  mind  several1  ideas,-  such 
as  are  those  expressed  by  the  words,  whiteness,  hardness,  sweet- 
ness, thinking,  motion,  man,  elephant,  army,  drunkenness,  and 
Others:  it  is  in  the  first  place  then  to  be  inquired,  How  he 
comes  by  them  ?  I  know  it  is  a  received  doctrine,  that  men  haye 
native  ideas  and  original  characters  stamped  upon  their  minds 
in  their  very  first  being.  This  opinion  I  have  at  large  examined 
already ;  and,  I  suppose,  what  I  have  said  in  the  foregoing  book 
will  be  much  more  easily  admitted,  when  I  have  shown  whence 
the  understanding  may  get  all  the  ideas  it  has,  and  by  what  w^ys 
and  degrees  they  may  come  into  the  mind;  for  which  I  shall 
appeal  to  every  one's  own  observation  and  experience. 

2.  All  ideas  come  from  sensation  or  reflection.  —  Let  us  then 
suppose  the  mind  to  be,  as  we  say,  white  paper,  void  of  all  char- 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     227 

acters,  without  any  ideas  :  How  comes  it  to  be  furnished  ?  Whence 
comes  it  by  that  vast  store,  which  the  busy  and  boundless  fancy 
of  man  has  painted  on  it  with  an  almost  endless  variety  ?  Whence 
has  it  all  the  materials  of  reason  and  knowledge  ?  To  this  I  an- 
swer, in  one  word,  From  experience.  In  that  all  our  knowledge 
is  founded,  and  from  that  it  ultimately  derives  itself.  Our  ob- 
servation, employed  either  about  external  sensible  objects,  or 
about  the  internal  operations  of  our  minds,  perceived  and  re- 
flected on  by  ourselves,  is  that  which  supplies  our  understand- 
ings with  all  the  materials  of  thinking.  These  two  are  the  foun- 
tains of  knowledge,  from  whence  all  the  ideas  we  have,  or  can 
naturally  have,  do  spring. 

3.  The  object  oj  sensation  one  source  oj  ideas.  —  First.    Our 
senses,  conversant  about  particular  sensible  objects,  do  convey 
into  the  mind  several  distinct  perceptions  of  things,  according 
to  those  various  ways  wherein  those  objects  do  affect  them;  and 
thus  we  come  by  those  ideas  we  have  of  yellow,  white,  heat,  cold, 
soft,  hard,  bitter,  sweet,  and  all  those  which  we  call  sensible 
qualities;  which  when  I  say  the  senses  convey  into  the  mind,  I 
mean,  they  from  external  objects  convey  into  the  mind  what 
produces  there  those  perceptions.   This  great  source  of  mos.t  of 
the  ideas  we  have,  depending  wholly  upon  our  t  senses,  and  de- 
rived by  them  to  the  understanding,  I  call,  SENSATION. 

4.  The  operations  of  our  minds  the  other  source  of  them.  — 
Secondly.   The  other  fountain,  from  which  experience  furnish- 
eth  the  understanding  with  ideas,  is  th 


tions  of  our  own  minds_withm  us,  as  it  is'  employed  about  the 
ideas  it  has  got;  which  operations  when  the  soul  comes  to  reflect 
on  and  consider,  do  furnish  the  understanding  with  another  set. 
of  ideas  which  could  not  be  had  from  things  without;  and  such 
are  perception,  thinking,  doubting,  believing,  reasoning,  know- 
ing, willing,  and  all  the  different  actings  of  our  own  minds;  which 
we,  being  conscious  of,  ?  •  '  -  ••  rrving  in  ourselves,  do  from 
these  receive  into  our  unc1  ;i  andinj  s  as  distinct  ideas,  as  we  do 
from  bodies  affecting  our  *  ais  source  of  ideas  every  man 

has  wholly  in  himself;  <  it  be  not  sense  as  having  no- 

thing to  do  with  exterr  yet  it  is  very  like  it,  and  might 


228  LOCKE 

properly  enough  be  called  internal  sense.  But  as  I  call 
other  sensation,  so  I  call  this  REFLECTION,  the  ideas  it  affords 
being  such  only  as  the  mind  gets  by  reflecting  on  its  own  opera- 
tions within  itself.  By  reflection,  then,  in  the  following  part  of 
this  discourse,  I  would  be  understood  to  mean  that  notice  which 
the  mind  takes  of  its  own  operations,  and  the  manner  of  them, 
by  reason  whereof  there  come  to  be  ideas  of  these  operations 
in  the  understanding.  These  two,  I  say,  viz.,  external  material 
things  as  the  objects  of  sensation,  and  the  operations  of  our  own 
minds  within  as  the  objects  of  reflection,  are,  to  me,  the  only 
originals  from  whence  all  our  ideas  take  their  beginnings.  The 
term  operations  here,  I  use  in  a  large  sense,  as  comprehending 
not  barely  the  actions  of  the  mind  about  its  ideas,  but  some  sort 
of  passions  arising  sometimes  from  them,  such  as  is  the  satisfac- 
tion or  uneasiness  arising  from  any  thought. 

5.  All  our  ideas  are  of  the  one  or  the  other  of  these.  —  The 
understanding  seems  to  me  not  to  have  the  least  glimmering  of 
any  ideas  which  it  doth  not  receive  from  one  of  these  two.  Ex- 
ternal objects  furnish  the  mind  with  the  ideas  of  sensible  quali- 
ties, which  are  all  those  different  perceptions  they  produce  in  us; 
and  the  mind  furnishes  the  understanding  with  ideas  of  its  own 
operations. 

These,  when  we  have  taken  a  full  survey  of  them,  and  tljeir 
several  modes  [combinations,  and  relations],  we  shall  find, to 
contain  all  our  whole  stock  of  ideas;  and  that  we  have  nothing 
in  our  minds  which  did  not  come  in  one  of  these  two  ways.  Let 
any  one  examine  his  own  thoughts,  and  thoroughly  search  into 
his  understanding,  and  then  let  him  tell  me,  whether  all  the 
original  ideas  he  has  there,  are  any  other  than  of  the  objects  of 
his  senses,  or  of  the  operations  of  his  mind  considered  as  objects 
of  his  reflection;  and  how  great  a  mass  of  knowledge  soever  he 
imagines  to  be  lodged  there,  he  will,  upon  taking  a  strict  view, 
see  that  he  has  not  any  idea  in  his  mind  but  what  one  of  these 
two  have  imprinted,  though  perhaps  with  infinite  variety  com- 
pounded and  ^nlnrorprl  hv  the  understanding,  as  we  shall  see 
hereafter. 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDINGS    229 


CHAPTER  II.    OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS 

1.  Uncompounded  appearances.  —  The  better  to  understand 
the  nature,  manner,  and  extent  of  our  knowledge,  one  thing 
is  carefully  to  be  observed  concerning  the  ideas  we  have;  and 
that  is,  that  some  of  them  are  simple,  and  some  complex. 

Though  the  qualities  that  affect  our  senses  are,  in  the  things 
themselves,  so  united  and  blended  that  there  is  no  separation, 
no  distance  between  them ;  yet  it  is  plain  the  ideas  they  produce 
in  the  mind  enter  by  the  senses  simple  and  unmixed.  For  though 
the  sight  and  touch  often  take  in  from  the  same  object,  at  the  ' 
same  time,  different  ideas  —  as  a  man  sees  at  once  motion  and  . 
colour,  the  riandJejds-_softnes^.And  warmth  in  the  same  piece 
of  wax  —  yet  the  simple  ideas  thus  united  in  the  same  subject 
are  as  perfectly  distinct  as  those  that  come  in  by  different  senses ;  • 
the  coldness  and  hardness  which  a  man  feels  in  a  piece  of  ice 
being  as  distinct  ideas  in  the  mind  as  the  smell  and  whiteness 
of  a  lily,  or  as  the  taste  of  sugar  and  smell  of  a  rose :  and  there 
is  nothing  can  be  plainer  to  a  man  than  the  clear  and  distinct 
perception  he  has  of  those  simple  ideas;  which,  being  each  in'f 
itself_uncompounded,  contains  in  it  nothing  but  one  uniform, 
appearance  or  conception  in  the  mind,  and  is  not  distinguish-' 
able  into  different  ideas. 

2.  The  mind  can  neither  make  nor  destroy  them.  —  These 
simple  ideas,  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge,  are  suggested 
and  furnished  to  the  mind  only  by  those  two  ways  above  men- 
tioned, viz.,  sensation^  and  reflection.    When  the  understand- 
ing is  once  stored  with  these  simple  ideas,  it  has  the  power  to 
repeat,  compare,  and  unite  them,  even  to  an  almost  infinite  ; 
variety,  and  so  can  make  at  pleasure  new  complex  ideas.   But 
it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  most  exalted  wit  or  enlarged  under-* 
standing,  by  any  quickness  or  variety  of  thought,  to  invent  or 
frame  one  new  simple  idea  in  the  mind,  not  taken  in  by  the 
ways  before  mentioned;  nor  can  any  force  of  the  understand- 
ing destroy  those  that  are  there :/  the  dominion  of  man  in  this 
little  world  of  his  own  understanding,  being  much- what  the 

'  "fe  4 


230  LOCKE 

same  as  it  is  in  the  great  world  of  visible  things,  wherein  his 
power,  however  managed  by  art  and  skill,  reaches  no  farther 
than  to  compound  and  divide  the  materials  that  are  made  to  his 
hand  but  can  do  nothing  towards  the  making  the  least  particle 
of  new  matter,  or  destroying  one  atom  of  what  is  already  in 
being.  .  .  . 

CHAPTER   III.     OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  SENSE 

i.  Division  of  simple  ideas.  —  The  better  to  conceive  the 
ideas  we  receive  from  sensation,  it  may  not  be  amiss  for  us  to 
consider  them  in  reference  to  the  different  ways  whereby  they 
make  their  approaches  to  our  minds,  and  make  themselves,  per- 
ceivable by  us. 

First,  then,  there  are  some  which  come  into  our  minds  by  one 
sense  only. 

Secondly.  There  are  others  that  convey  themselves  into  the 
mind  by  more  senses  than  one. 

Thirdly.    Others  that  are  had  from  reflection  only. 

Fourthly.  There  are  some  that  make  themselves  way,  and 
are  suggested  to  the  mind,  by  all  the  ways  of  sensatioir  and 
reflection. 

We  shall  consider  them  apart  under  these  several  heads. 

i.  There  are  some  ideas  which  have  admittance  only  through 
one  sense,  which  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  receive  them.  Thus 
light  and  colours,  as  white,  red,  yellow,  blue,  with  their  several 
degrees  or  shades  and  mixtures,  as  green,  scarlet,  purple,  sea- 
green,  and  the  rest,  come  in  only  by  the  eyes;  all  kinds  of  noises, 
sounds,  and  tones,  only  by  the  ears ;  the  several  Pastes  and  smells, 
by  the  nose  and  palate.  And  if  these  organs,  or.  the  nerves  which 
are  the  conduits  to  convey  them  from  without  to  their  audience 
in  the  brain,  the  mind's  presence-room  (as  I  may  so  call  it),  are, 
any  of  them,  so  disordered  as  not  to  perform  their  functions, 
they  have  no  postern  to  be  admitted  by,  no  other  way  to  bring 
themselves  into  view,  and  be  received  by  the  understanding. 

The  most  considerable  of  those  belonging  to  the  touch  are 
heat,  and  cold,  and  solidity;  all  the  rest  —  consisting  almost 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     231 

wholly  in  the  sensible  configuration,  as  smooth  and  rough;  or 
else  more  or  less  firm  adhesion  of  the  parts,  as  hard  and  soft, 
tough  and  brittle  —  are  obvious  enough. 

2.  I  think  it  will  be  needless  to  enumerate  all  the  particular  / 
simple  ideas  belonging  to  each  sense.   Nor  indeed  is  it  possible 
if  we  would,  there  being  a  great  many  more  of  them  belonging 
to  most  of  the  senses  than  we  have  names  for.  ...  I  shall 
therefore,  in  the  account  of  simple  ideas  I  am  here  giving,  con-  ( 
tent  myself  to  set  down  only  such  as  are  most  material  to  our/' 
present  purpose,  or  are  in  -themselves  less  apt  to  be  taken  noticed 
of,  though  they  are  very  frequently  the  ingredients  of  our  com- 
plex ideas;  amongst  which  I  think  I  may  well  account  "  solidity," 
which  therefore  I  shall  treat  of  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER   IV.   IDEA    OF   SOLIDITY 

i.  We  receive  this  idea  from  touch.  —  The  idea  of  solidity  we 
receive  by  our  touch ;  and  it  arises  from  the  resistance  which  we 
find  in  body  to  the  entrance  of  any  other  body  into  the  place  it 
possesses,  till  it  has  left  it.  There  is  no  idea  which  we  receive 
more  constantly  from  sensation  than  solidity.  Whether  we  move 
or  rest,  in  what  posture  soever  we  are,  we  always  feel  something 
under  us  th^t  supports  i^  and  hinders  our  farther  sinking  down- 
wards. ;  and  the  bodies  which  we  daily  handle  make  us  perceive 
that  whilst  they  remain  between  them,  they  do,  by  an  insur- 
mountable force,  hinder  the  approach  of  the  parts  of  our  hands 
that  press  them.  That  which  thus  hinders  the  approach  of  two 
bodies,  when  they  are  moving  one  towards  another,  I  call  solid- 
ity. I  will  not  dispute  whether  this  acceptation  of  the  word 
"solid"  be  nearer  to  its  original  signification  than  that  which 
mathematicians  use  it  in;  it  suffices  that,  I  think,  the  common 
notion  of  "solidity,"  will  allow,  if  not  justify,  this  use  of  it;  but 
if  any  one  think  it  better  to  call  it  impenetrability,  he  has 
my  consent.  Only  I  have  thought  the  term  solidity  the  more 
proper  to  express  this  idea,  not  only  because  of  its  vulgar  use  in 
that  sense,  but  also  because  it  carries  something  more  of  positive 
in  it  than  impenetrability,  which  is  negative,  and  is,  perhaps, 


232 


LOCKE 


more  a  consequence  of  solidity  than  solidity  itself.  This,  of  all 
other,  seems  the  idea  most  intimately  connected  with  and  essen- 
tial to  body,  so  as  nowhere  else  to  be  found  or  imagined  but  only 
in  matter;  and  though  our  senses  take  no  notice  of  it  but  in 
masses  of  matter,  of  a  bulk  sufficient  to  cause  a  sensation  in  us; 
yet  the  mind,  having  once  got  this  idea  from  such  grosser  sensible 
bodies,  traces  it  farther  and  considers  it,  as  well  as  figure,  in  the 
minutest  particle  of  matter  that  can  exist,  and  finds  it  inseparably 
inherent  in  body,  wherever  or  however  modified. 

2.  Solidity  fills  space.  —  This  is  the  idea  which  belongs  to 
body,  whereby  we  conceive  it  to  fill  space.   The  idea  of  which 
filling  of  space  is,  that  where  we  imagine  any  spa£e  taken  up  by 
a  solid  substance,  we  conceive  it  so  to  possess  it  that  it  excludes 
all  other  solid  substances,  and  will  for  ever  hinder 'any  two  other 
bodies,  that  move  towards  one  another  in  a  straight  line,  from 
coming  to  touch  one  another,  unless  it  removes  from  between 
them  in  a  line  not  parallel  to  that  which  they  move  in.  This  idea 
of  it,  the  bodies  which  we  ordinarily  handle  sufficiently  furnish 
us  with. 

3.  Distinct  from  space.  —  This  resistance,  whereby  it  keeps 
other  bodies  out  of  the  space  which  it  possesses,  is  so  great  that 
no  force,  how  great  soever,  can  surmount  it.   All  the  bodies  in  the 
world,  pressing  a  drop  of  water  on  all  sides,  will  never  be  able 
to  overcome  the  resistance  which  it  will  make,  as  soft  as  it  is,  to 
their  approaching  one  another,  till  it  be  removed  out  of  their 
way:  whereby  our  idea  of  solidity  is  distinguished  both  from 
pure  space,  which  is  capable  neither  of  resistance  nor  motion, 
and  from  the  ordinary  idea  of  hardness.  For  a  man  may  con- 
ceive two  bodies  at  a  distance  so  as  they  may  approach  one 
another  without  touching  or  displacing  any  solid  thing  till  their 
superficies  come  to  meet;  whereby,  I  think,  we  have  the  clear 
idea  of  space  without  solidity.  For  (not  to  go  so  far  as  annihila- 
tion of  any  particular  body),  I  ask,  whether  a  man  cannot  have 
the  idea  of  the  motion  of  one  single  body  alone,  without  any 
other  succeeding  immediately  into  its  place  ?  I  think  it  is  evident 

\  he  can :  the  idea  of  motion  in  one  body  no  more  including  the 
\idea  of  motion  in  another,  than  the  idea  of  a  square  figure  in  one 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     233 

body  includes  the  idea  of  a  square  figure  in  another.  I  do  not 
ask,  whether  bodies  do  so  exist,  that  the  motion  of  one  body 
cannot  really  be  without  the  motion  of  another.  To  determine 
this  either  way  is  to  beg  the  question  for  or  against  a  vacuum. 
But  my  question  is,  whether  one  cannot  have  the  idea  of  one 
body  moved,  whilst  others  are  at  rest  ?  And  I  think  this  no  one 
will  deny:  if  so,  then  the  place  it  deserted  gives  us  the  idea  of 
pure  space  without  solidity,  whereinto  another  body  may  enter 
without  either  resistance  or  protrusion  of  any  thing.  When  the* 
sucker  in  a  pump  is  drawn,  the  space  it  filled  in  the  tube  is  cer- 
tainly the  same,  whether  any  other  body  follows  the  motion  of 
the  sucker  or  not:  nor  does  it  imply  a  contradiction  that  upon 
the  motion  of  one  body,  another  that  is  only  contiguous  to  it 
should  not  follow  it.  The  necessity  of  such  a  motion  is  built 
only  on  the  supposition,  that  the  world  is  full,  but  not-  on  the  j 
distinct  ideas  of  space  and  solidity;  which  are  as  different  as  re- 
sistance and  not-resistance,  protrusion  and  not-protrusion.  And 
that  men  have  ideas  of  space  without  body,  their  very  disputes 
about  a  vacuum  plainly  demonstrate,  as  is  showed  in  another 
place. 

4.  From  hardness.  —  Solidity  is  hereby  also  differenced  from 
hardness,  in  that  solidity  consists  in  repletion,  and  so  an  utter 
exclusion  of  other  bodies  out  of  the  space  it  possesses;  but  hard-  , 
ness,  in  a  firm  cohesion  of  the  parts  of  matter,  making  up  masses 
of  a  sensible  bulk,  so  that  the  whole  does  not  easily  change  its 
figure.    And,  indeed,  hard  and  soft  are  names  that  we  give  to 
Sings  only  in  relation  to  the  constitutions  of  our  own  bodies; 
that  being  generally  called  "hard"  by  us  which  will  put  us  to 
pain  sooner  than  change  figure  by  the  pressure  of  any  part  of 
our  bodies;  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  "soft"  Which  changes  the 
situation  of  its  parts  upon  an  easy  and  unpainful  touch. 

5.  On  solidity  depends  impulse,  resistance,  <±nd  protrusion.  - 
By  this  idea  of  solidity  is  the  extension  of  body  distinguished 
from  the  extension  of  space :  the  extension  of  body  being  nothing 
but  the  cohesion  or  continuity  of  solid,  separable,  movable  parts; 
and  the  extension  of  space,  the  continuity  of  unsolid,  inseparable, 


234  LOCKE 

and  immovable  parts.  Upon  the  solidity  of  bodies  also  depends 
their  mutual  impulse,  resistance,  and  protrusion.  Of  pure  space, 
then,  and  solidity,  there  are  several  (amongst  which  I  confess 
myself  one)  who  persuade  themselves  they  have  clear  and  dis- 
tinct ideas:  and  that  they  can  think  on  space  without  any  thing 
in  it  that  resists  or  is  protruded  by  body.  This  is  tr^  idea  of  pure 
space,  which  they  think  they  have  as  clear  as  any  idea  they  can 
have  of  the  extension  of  body;  the  idea  of  the  distance  between 
the  opposite  parts  of  a  concave  superficies  being  equally  as  clear 
without  as  with  the  idea  of  any  solid  parts  between ;  and  on  the 
other  side  they  persuade  themselves  that  they  have,  distinct  from 
that  of  pure  space,  the  idea  of  something  that  fills  space,  that  can 
be  protruded  by  the  impulse  of  other  bodies,  or  resist  their  mo- 
tion. If  there  be  others  that  have  not  these  two  ideas  distinct, 
but  confound  them,  and  make  but  one  of  them,  I  know  not  how 
men  who  have  the  same  idea  under  different  names,  or  different 
ideas  under  the  same  name,  can  in  that  case  talk  with  one  an- 
other; any  more  than  a  man  who,  not  being  blind  or  deaf,  has 
distinct  ideas  of  the  colour  of  scarlet  and  the  sound  of  a  trumpet, 
would  discourse  concerning  scarlet- coloAir  with  the  blind  man  I 
mention  in  another  place,  who  fancied  that  the  idea  of  scarlet 
was  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet. 

6.  What  it  is.  —  If  any  one  asks  me,  What  this  solidity  is,  I 
send  him  to  his  senses  to  inform  him :  let  him  put  a  flint  or  a  foot- 
ball between  his  hands,  and  then  endeavour  to  join  them,  and  he 
will  know.  If  he  thinks  this  not  a  sufficient  explication  of  solid- 
ity, what  it  is,  and  wherein  it  consists,  I  promise  to  tell  him  what 
it  is,  and  wherein  it  consists,  when  he  tells  me  what  thinking  is, 
or  wherein  it  consists;  or  explains  to  me  what  extension  or  mo- 
tion is,  which  perhaps  seems  much  easier*  The  simple  ideas  we 
have  are  such  as  experience  teaches  them  us;  but  if,  beyond  that, 
we  endeavour  by  words  to  make  them  clearer  in  the  mind,  we 
shall  succeed  no  better  than  if  we  went  about  to  clear  up  the 
darkness  of  a  blind  man's  mind  by  talking,  and  to  discourse  into 
him  the  ideas  of  light  and  colours.  The  reason  of  this  I  shall 
show  in  another  place.  \ 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     235 


CHAPTER  VI.   OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  REFLECTION 

1.  Simple  idea^  oj  reflection  are  the  operations  0}  the  mind  about 
its  other  ideas.  —  The  mind,  receiving  the  ideas  mentioned  in 
the  foregoing  chapters  from  without,  when  it  turns  its  view  in- 
ward upon  itself,  and  observes  its  own  actions  about  those  ideas  \ 
it  has,  takes  from  thence  other  ideas,  which  are  as  capable  to  be  '. 
the  objects  of  its  contemplation  as  any  of  those  it  received  from 
foreign  things. 

2.  The  idea  oj  perception,  and  idea  oj  willing,  we  have  from 
reflection.  —  The  two  great  and  principal  actions  of  the  mind, 
which  are  most  frequently  considered,  and  which  are  so  frequent 
that  every  one  that  pleases  may  take  notice  of  them  in  himself, 
are  these  two :  Perception  or  Thinking ;  and  Volition  or  Willing. 
[The  power  of  thinking  is  called  the  Understanding,  and  the 
power  of  volition  is  called  the  Will ;  and  these  two  powers  or 
abilities  in  the  mind  are  denominated  "  faculties."]  .  .  . 

0 

CHAPTER     VII.     OF    SIMPLE    IDEAS     OF    BOTH 
SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION 

1.  Pleasure  and  pain.  —  There  be  other  simple  ideas  which 
convey  themselves  into  the  mind  by  all  the  ways  of  sensation 
and  reflection ;  viz.,  pleasure  or  delight,  and  its  opposite,  pain  or 
uneasiness;  power;  existence;  unity. 

2.  Delight  or  uneasiness,  one  or  other  of  them,  join  them- 
selves to  almost  all  our  ideas  both  of  sensation  and  reflection; 
and  there  is  scarce  any  affection  of  our  senses  from  without,  any 
retired  thought  of  our  mind  within,  which  is  not  able  to  produce 
in  us  pleasure  or  pain.   By  "pleasure"  and  "pain,"  I  would  be 
understood  to  signify  whatsoever  delights  or  molests  us ;  whether  4 
it  arises  from  the  thoughts  of  our  minds,  or  any  thing  operating 
on  our  bodies.    For  whether  we  call  it  "satisfaction,  delight, 
pleasure,  happiness,"    &c.,  on  the  one  side,  or  "uneasiness, 
trouble,  pain,  torment,  anguish,  misery,"  &c.,  on  the  other,  they 
are  still  but  different  degrees  of  the  sarr  e  thing,  and  belong  to  the 


236  LOCKE 

ideas  of  pleasure  and  pain,  delight  or  uneu  s;  which  are 
the  names  I  shall  most  commonly  use  or  those  two  sorts  of 
ideas. 

6.  Pleasure  and  pain.  —  Though  wha'   !  :iere  said  may 
not  perhaps  make  the  ideas  of  pleasure  and  pain  clearer  to  us 
than  our  own  experience  does,  which  is  the  .  <; y  vvay  that  we  are 
capable  of  having  them;  yet  the  consideration  of  the  reason  why 
they  are  annexed  to  so  many  other  ideas,  serving-to  give  us  due 
sentiments  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Sovereign  Dis- 
poser of  all  things,  may  not  be  unsuitable  to  the  main  end  of 
these  inquiries :  the  knowledge  and  veneration  of  Him  being  the- 
chief  end  of  all  our  thoughts,  and  the  proper  business  of  all  our 
understandings. 

7.  Existence  and  unity.  —  Existence  and  unity  are  two  other' 
ideas  that  are  suggested  to  the  understanding  by  every  object 
without,  and  every  idea  within.   When  ideas  are  in  our  minds, 
we  consider  them  as  being  actually  there,  as  well  as  we  consider 
things  to  be  actually  without  us :  which  is,  that  they  exist,  orliave 
existence:  and  whatever  we  can  consider  as  one  thing,  whether 
a  real  being  or  idea,  suggests  to  the  understanding  the  idea  of 
unity. 

8.  Power.  —  Power  also  is  another  of  those  simple  ideas  ^which 
we  receive  from  sensation  and  reflection.  For,  observing  in  our- 
selves  that  we  do  and  can  think,  and  that  we  can  at  pleasure 
move  several  parts  of  our  bodies  which  were  at  rest;  the  effects 
also  that  natural  bodies  are  able  to  produce  in  one  another  occur- 
ring every  moment  to  our  senses,  we  both  these  ways  get  the  idea 
of  power. 

9.  Succession  —  Besides  these  there  is  another  idea,  which 
though  suggested  by  our  senses,  yet  is  more  constantly  offered 
us  by  what  passes  in  our  minds;  and  that  is  the  idea  of  succes- 
sion.   For  if  we  look  immediately  into  ourselves,  and  reflect  on 
what  is  observable  there,  we  shall  find  our  ideas  always,  whilst 
we  are  awake  or  have  any  thought,  passing  in  train,  one  going 
and  another  coming  without  intermission.^ 

10.  Simple  ideas  the  materials  oj  all  our  knowledge.  —  These, 
if  they  are  not  all,  are  at  ^east  (as  I  think)  the  most  considerable 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     237 

of  those  simple  ideas  which  the  mind  has,  and  out  of  which  is 
made  all  its  other  knowledge :  all  of  which  it  receives  only  by  the 
two  forementioned  ways  of  sensation  and  reflection. 


CHAPTER     VIII.    SOME    FARTHER    CONSIDERA- 
TIONS   CONCERNING   OUR   SIMPLE 
IDEAS  OF  SENSATION 

1.  Positive  ideas   from   privative  causes.  —  Concerning  the 
simple  ideas  of  Sensation  it  is  to  be  considered,  that  whatsoever 
is  so  constituted  in  nature  as  to  be  able,  by  affecting  our  senses, 
to  cause  any  perception  in  the  mind,  both  thereby  produce  in  the 
understanding  ajsimple  idea;  which,  whatever  be  the  external 
cause  of  it,  when  it  comes  to  be  taken  notice  of  by  our  discerning 
faculty,  it  is  by  the  mind  lopkeoLoii  and  considered  there  to  be  a 
real  positive  idea  in  the  understanding,  "as  much  as  any  otherj 
whatsoever;  though  perhaps  *he  cause  of  it  be  but  a  privation  in 
the  subject. 

2.  Thus  the  ideas  of  hea^and  cold,  light  and  darkness,  white 
and  black,  motion  and  rest,  are  equally  clear  and  positive  ideas 
in  the  mind ;  though  perhaps  some  of  the  causes  which  produce 
them  are  barely  pnvations  in  those  subjects  from  whence  our 
senses  derive  those  ideas.   These  the  understanding,  in  its  view 
of  them,  considers  all  as  distinct  positive  ideas  without  taking 
notice  of  the  causes  that  produce  them;  which  is  an  inquiry  not 
belonging  to  the  idea  as  it  is  in  the  understanding,  but  to  the 
nature  of  the  things  existing  without  us.    These  are  two  very 
different  things,  and  carefully  to  be  distinguished ;  it  being  one 
thing  to  perceive  and  know  the  idea  bf  white  or  black,  and  quite 
another  to  examine  what  kind  of  particles  they  must  be,  and 
how  ranged  in  the  superficies,  to  make  any  object  appear  white 
or  black. 

7.  Ideas  in  the  mind,  qualities  in  b'odies.  —  To  discover  the 
nature  of  our  ideas  the  better,  and  to  discourse  of  them  intelli- 
gibly, it  will  be  convenient  to  distinguish  them,  as  they  are  ideas- 
or  perceptions  in  our  minds:  and  as  they  are  modifications  of 


238  LOCKE; 

matter  in  the  bodies  that  cause  such  perceptions  in  us;  that  so 
we  may  not  think  (as  perhaps  usually  is  done)  that  they  are 
exactly  the  images  and  resemblances  of  something  inherent  in, 
the  subject;  most  of  those  of  sensation  being  in  the  mind  no  more- 
the  likeness  of  something  existing  without  us  than  the  narnes_- 
that  stand  for  them  are  the  likeness  of  our  ideas,  which  yet  upon  - 
hearing  they  are  apt  to  excite  in  us. 

8.  Whatsoever  the  mind  perceives  in  itself,  or  is  the  immediate 
object  of  perception,  thought,  or  understanding,  that  I  call  idea; 
and  the  power  to  produce  any  idea  in  our  mind,  I  call  quality 
of  the  subject  wherein  that  power  is.    Thus  a  snowball  having 
the  power  to  produce  in  us  the  ideas  of  white,  cold,  and  round, 
the  power  to  produce  those  ideas  in  us  as  they  are  in  the  snow- 
ball, I  call  qualities ;  and  as  they  are  sensations  or  perceptions 
in  our  understandings,  I  call  them  ideas;   which  ideas,  if  I 
speak  of  them  sometimes  as  in  the  things  themselves,  I  would 

/be  understood  to  mean  those  qualities  in  the  objects  which  pro- 
duce them  in  us. 

9.  Primary  qualities.  —  [Qualities  thus  considered  in  bodies 
are,  First,  such  as  are  utterly  inseparable  from  the  body,  in  what 
estate  soever  it  be;]  and  such  as,  in  all  the  alterations  and  changes 
it  suffers,  all  the  force  can  be  used  upon  it,  it  constantly  keeps; 
and  such  as  sense  constantly  finds  in  every  particle  of  matter 
which  has  bulk  enough  to  be  perceived,  and  the  mind  finds 
inseparable  from  every  particle  of  matter,  though  less  than 'to 
make  itself  singly  be  perceived  by  our  senses;  v.  g.,  take  a  grain 
of  wheat,  divide  it  into  two  parts,  each  part  has  still  solidity, 
extension,  figure,  and  mobility;  divide  it  again,  and  it  retains 
still  the  same  qualities:  and  so  divide  it  on  till  the  parts  become 
insensible,  they  must  retain  still  each  of  them  all  those  qualities. 
For,  division  (which  is  all  that  a  mill  or  pestle  or  any  other  body 
does  upon  another,  in  reducing  it  to  insensible  parts)  can  never 
take  away  either  solidity,  extension,  figure,  or  mobility  from  any 
body,  but  only  makes  two  or  more  distinct  separate  masses  of 
matter  of  that  which  was  but  one  before;  all  which  distinct 
masses,  reckoned  as  so  many  distinct  bodies,  after  division,  make 
a  ceffain  number.  [These  I  call  original  or  primary  qualities  of 


NTDI     STANDING     239 

body,  which1!  think  we  may  observe  to  produce  simple  ideas 
in  us,  viz.,  solidity,  extension,  figure,  motion  or  rest,  and  num- 
ber. 

10.  Secondary  qualities.  —  Secondly.    Such  qualities^  which 
in  truth_are  nothing  in  the  objects  themselves,  but  powers  to 
produce  various  sensations  in  us  by  their  primary  qualities,  i.  e^    . 
by  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  their  insensible  parts, 
as  colours,  sounds,  tastes,   &c.,  these  I  call  secondary  qualities. 
To  these  might  be  added  a  third  sort,  which  are  allowed  to  be 
barely  powers,  though  they  are  as  much  real  qualities  in  the 
subject  as  those  which  I,  to  comply  with  the  common  way  of 
speaking,  call  qualities,  but,  for  distinction,  secondary  qualities. 
For,  the  power  in  fire  to  produce  a  new  colour  or  consistency  in 
wax  or  clay,  by  its  primary  qualities,  is  as  much  a  quality  in 
fire,  as  the  power  it  has  to  produce  in  me  a  new  idea  or  sen- 
sation of  warmth  or  burning,  which  I  felt  not  before,  by  the! 
same  primary  qualities,  viz.,  the  bulk,  texture,  and  motion  of 
its  insensible  parts.] 

11.  [How  primary  qualities  produce  their  ideas.  —  The  next 
thing  to  be  considered  is,  how  bodies  produce  ideas  in  us;  and 
that  is  manifestly  by  Impulse,  the  only  way  which  we  can  con- 
ceive bodies  to  operate  in.] 

12.  If,  then,  external  objects  be  not  united  to  our  minds  when    • 
they  produce  ideas  therein,  and  yet  we  perceive  these  original  '•  • 
qualities  in  such  of  them  as  singly  fall  under  our  senses,  it  is 
evident  that  some  motion  must  be  thence  continued  by  our 
nerves,  or  animal  spirits,  by  some  parts  of  our  bodies,  to  the 
brain,  or  the  seat  of  sensation,  therejo  produce  in  our  minds 
the  particular  ideas  we  have  of  them.   And  since  the  extension, 
figure,  number,  and  motion  of  bodies  of  an  observable  bigness, 
may  be  perceived  at  a  distance  by  the  sight,  it  is  evident  some 
singly  imperceptible  bodies  must  come  from  them  to  the  eyes, 
and  thereby  convey  to  the  brain  some  motion  which  produces 
these  ideas  which  we  have  of  them  in  us. 

13.  How  secondary.  —  After  the  same  manner  that  the  ideas 
of  these  original  qualities  are  produced  in  us,  we  may  conceive 
that  the  ideas  of  secondary  qualities  are  also  produced,  viz.,  by 


.:4.o  LOCKE 

he  operation  of  insensible  particles  on  our  senses  For  it  being 
nanifest  that  there  are  bodies,  and  good  store  of  bodies,  each 
whereof  are  so  small  that  we  cannot  by  any  01  our  senses  dis- 
:over  either  their  bulk,  figure,  or  motion  (as  is  evident  in  the 
particles  of  the  air  and  water,  and  other  extremely  smaller  than 
those,  perhaps  as  much  smaller  than  the  particles  of  air  or  water 
as  the  particles  of  air  or  water  are  smaller  than  peas  or  hail- 
stones):, let  us  suppose  at  present  that  the  different  motions  and 
figures,  bulk  and  number,  of  such  particles,  affecting  the  several 
organs  of  our  senses,  produce  in  us  those  different  sensations 
which  we  have  from  the  colours  and  smells  of  bodies;  v.  g.,  that 
a  violet,  by  the  impulse  of  such  insensible  particles  oi  matter  of 
peculiar  figures  and  bulks,  and  in  different  degrees  and  modifi- 
cations of  their  motions,  causes  the  ideas  of  the  blue  colour  and 
sweet  scent  of  that  flower  to  be  produced  in  our  minds;  it  being 
no  more  impossible  to  conceive  that  God  should  annex  such  ideas 
|  to  such  motions,  with  which  they  have  no  similitude,  than  that 
he  should  annex  the  idea  of  pain  to  the  motion  of  a  piece  of  steel 
dividing  our  flesh,  with  which  the  idea  hath  no  resemblance. 

14.  What  I  have  said  concerning  colours  and  smells  may  be 
understood  also  of  tastes  and  sounds,  and  other  the  like  sensi- 
ble qualities ;  which,  whatever  reality  we  by  mistake  attribute  to 
them,  arejnjmth^othing Jnjhe -.objects  ..tjjemsdyes, hujjDowers 
to  produce  various  sensations  in  us,  and  depend  on  those  primary 
qualities,  viz.,  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  parts  [as  J 
have  said].  // 

15.  Ideas  of  primary  qualities  are  resemblances;  of  secondary, 
not.  —  From  whence  I  think  it  is  easy  to  draw  this  observatioki, 
that  the  ideas  of  primary  qualities  of  bodies  are  resemblances  of 
them,  and  their  patterns  do  really  exist  in  the  bodies  themselves ; 
but  the  ideas  produced  in  us  by  these  secondary  qualities  have 
no  resemblance  of  them  at  all.   There  is  nothing  like  our  ideas 
existing  in  the  bodies  themselves.   They  are,  in  the  bodies  we 
denominate  from  them,  only  a  power  to  produce  those  sensations 
in  us;  and  what  is  sweet,  blue,  or  warm  in  idea,  is  but  the  certain 
bulk,  figure,  and  motion  of  the  insensible  parts  in  the  bodies 
themselves,  which  we  call  so. 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     241 

1 6.  Flame  is  denominated  hot  and  light;  snow,  white  and 
cold;  and  manna,  white  and  sweet,  from  the  ideas  they  produce 
in  us,  which  qualities  are  commonly  thought  to  be  the  same  in 
those  bodies  that  those  ideas  are  in  us,  the  one  the  perfect  re- 
semblance of  the  other,  as  they  are  in  a  mirror;  and  it  would  by 
most  men  be  judged  very  extravagant,  if  one  should  say  other- 
wise. And  yet  he  that  will  consider  that  the  same  fire  that  at  one 
distance  produces  in  us  the  sensation  of  warmth,  does  at  a  nearer 
approach  produce  in  us  the  far  different  sensation  of  pain,  ought 
to  bethink  himself  what  reason  he  has  to  say,  that  this  idea  of 
warmth  which  was  produced  in  him  by  the  fire,  is  actually  in  the 
fire,  and  his  idea  of  pain  which  the  same  fire  produced  in  him 
the  same  way  is  not  in  the  fire.   Why  is  whiteness  and  coldness 
in  snow  and  pain  not,  when  it  produces  the  one  and  the  other 
idea  in  us;  and  can  do  neither  but  by  the  bulk,  figure,  number, 
and  motion  of  its  solid  parts? 

17.  The  particular  bulk,  number,  figure,  and  motion  of  the 
parts  of  fire  or  snow  are  really  in  them,  whether  any  one's  senses 
perceive  them  or  no;  and  therefore  they  may  be  called  real  quali-  / 
ties,  because  they  really  exist  in  those  bodies.    But  light,  heat,1 
whiteness,  or  coldness,  are  no  more  really  in  them  than  sickness 
or  pain  is  in  manna.  Take  away  the  sensation  of  them;  let  not 
the  eyes  see  light  or  colours,  nor  the  ears  hear  sounds;  let  the 
palate  not  taste,  nor  the  nose  smell ;  and  all  colours,  tastes,  odours, 
and  sounds,  as  they  are  such  particular  ideas,  vanish  and  cease, 
and  are  reduced  to  their  causes,  i.  e.,  bulk,  figure,  and  motion  of 
parts. 

23.  Three  sorts  of  qualities  in  bodies.  —  The  qualities  then 
that  are  in  bodies,  rightly  considered,  are  of  three  sorts:  — 

First.  The  bulk,  figure,  number,  situation,  and  motion  or 
rest  of  their  solid  parts;  those  are  in  them,  whether  we  perceive 
them  or  not ;  and  when  they  are  of  that  size  that  we  can  discover 
them,  we  have  by  these  ideas  of  the  thing  as  it  is  in  itself,  as  is 
plain  in  artificial  things.  These  I  call  primary  qualities. 

Secondly.  The  power  that  is  in  any  body,  by  reason  of  its 
insensible  primary  qualities,  to  operate  after  a  peculiar  manner 
on  any  of  our  senses,  and  thereby  produce  in  us  the  different 


242  LOCKE 

ideas  of  several  colours,  sounds,  smells,  tastes,  &c.  These  are 
( usually  called  sensible  qualities. 

Thirdly.  The  power  that  is  in  any  body,  by  reason  of  the 
particular  constitution  of  its  primary  qualities,  to  make  such  a 
change  in  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  another  body, 
as  to  make  it  operate  on  our  senses  differently  from  what  it  did 
before.  Thus  the  sun  has  a  power  to  make  wax  white,  and  fire, 
to  make  lead  fluid.  [These  are  usually  called  powers.] 

The  first  of  these,  as  has  been  said,  I  think  may  be  properly 
called  real,  original,  or  primary  qualities,  because  they  are  in  the 
things  themselves,  whether  they  are  perceived  or  no;  and  upon 
their  different  modifications  it  is  that  the  secondary  qualities 
depend. 

The  other  two  are  only  powers  to  act  differently  upon4  other 
things,  which  powers  result  from  the  different  modifications  of 
those  primary  qualities. 


CHAPTER  IX.    OF  PERCEPTION 

1.  Perception  the  first  simple  idea  of  reflection.  —  Perception, 
|   as  it  is  the  first  faculty  of  the  mind  exercised  about  our  ideas, 
;   so  it  is  the  first  and  simplest  idea  we  have  from  reflection,  and 

is  by  some  called  " thinking"  in  general.  Though  thinking,  in 
the  propriety  of  the  English  tongue,  signifies  that  sort  of  opera- 
tion of  the  mind  about  its  ideas  wherein  the  mind  is  active;  where 
it,  with  some  degree  of  voluntary  attention,  considers  any  thing: 
for  in  bare,  naked  perception,  the  mind  is,  for  the  most  part, 
only  passive,  and  what  it  perceives  it  cannot  avoid  perceiving. 

2.  Is  only  when  the  mind  receives  the  impression.  — 'What 
perception  is,  every  one  will  know  better  by  refleetirfg  on  what 
he  does  himself,  when  he  sees,  hears,  feels,  &c.,  or  thinks,  than 
by  any  discourse  of  mine.  Whoever  reflects  on  what  passes  in  his 
own  mind,  cannot  miss  it;  and  if  he  does  not  reflect,  all  the  words 

t  «  '  {  in  the  world  cannot  make  him  have  any  notion  of  it. 

3.  This  is  certain,  that  whatever  alterations  are  made  in  the 
body,  if  they  reach  not  the  mind;  whatever  impressions  are  made 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     243 

on  the  outward  parts,  if  they  are  not  taken  notice  of  within; 
there  is  no  perception.  Fire  may  burn  our  bodies  with  no  other 
effect  than  it  does  a  Juliet,  unless  the  motion  be  continued  to  the 
brain,  and  there  the  sense  of  heat  or  idea  of  pain  be  produced  in 
the  mind,  wherein  consists  actual  perception. 

sensatinft   Q  j f,pn  Changed  hy  j,fafi  judgment..  —  We 

are  farther  to  consider  concerning  perception,  that  the  ideas  we 
receive  by  sensation  are  often  in  grown  people  altered  by  the  • 
judgment  without  our  taking  notice  i3f~itT--:Wheri_w'e--set  before  ; 
our  eyes  a  round  globe  of  any  uniform  colour,  v.  g.,  gold,  ala- 
baster, or  jet,  it  is  certain  that  the  idea  thereby  imprinted  in  our 
mind  is  of  a  flat  circle  variously  shadowed,  with  several  degrees 
of  light  and  brightness  coming  to  our  eyes.  But  we  having,  by 
use,  been  accustomed  to  perceive  what  kind  of  appearance  con- ; 
vex  bodies  are  wont  to  make  in  us;  what  alterations  are  made  in 
the  reflections  of  light  by  the  difference  of  the  sensible  figures  of 
bodies;  —  the  judgment  presently,  by  an  habitual  custom,  alters 
the  appearances  into  their  causes;  so  that,  from  that  which  truly 
is  variety  of  shadow  or  colour  collecting  the  figure,  it  makes  it 
pass  for  a  mark  of  figure,  and  frames  to  itself  the  perception  of 
a  convex  figure  and  an  uniform  colour;  when  the  idea  we  receive 
from  thence  is  only  a  plane  variously  coloured,  as  is  evident  in 
painting.  [To  which  purpose  I  shall  here  insert  a  problem  of 
that  very  ingenious  and  studious  promoter  of  real  knowledge, 
the  learned  and  worthy  Mr.  Molineaux,  which  he  was  pleased 
to  send  me  in  a  letter  some  months  since :  and  it  is  this :  "  Suppose 
a  man  born  blind,  and  now  adult,  and  taught  by  his  touch  to 
distinguish  between  a  cube  and  a  sphere  of  the  same  metal,  and 
nighly  of  the  same  bigness,  so  as  to  tell,  when  he  felt  one  and 
the  other,  which  is  the  cube,  which  the  sphere.  Suppose  then 
the  cube  and  sphere  placed  on  a  table,  and  the  blind  man  to  be 
made  to  see ;  quaere,  Whether  by  his  sight,  before  he  touched  them, 
he  could  now  distinguish  and  tell  which  is  the  globe,  which 
the  cube  ?  "  To  which  the  acute  and  judicious  proposer  answers : 
"  Not.  For  though  he  has  obtained  the  experience  of  how  a  globe, 
how  a  cube,  affects  his  touch;  yet  he  has  not  yet  obtained  the 
experirnce,  that  what  affects  his  touch  so  or  so,  must  affect  his 


244  LOCKE 

sight  so  or  so;  or  that  a  protuberant  angle  in  the  cube,  that 
pressed  his  hand  unequally,  shall  appear  to  his  eye  as  it  does  in 
the  cube."  I  agree  with  this  thinking  gentleman  whom  I  am 
proud  to  call  my  friend,  in  his  answer  to  this  his  problem;  and 
am  of  opinion,  that  the  blind  man,  at  first  sight,  would  not  be 
able  with  certainty  to  say  which  was  the  globe,  which  the  cube, 
whilst  he  only  saw  them ;  though  he  could  unerringly  name  them 
by  his  touch,  and  certainly  distinguish  them  by  the  difference 
of  their  figures  felt.  This  I  have  set  down,  and  leave  with  my 
reader,  as  an  occasion  for  him  to  consider  how  much  he  may  be 
beholden  to  experience,  improvement,  and  acquired  notions, 
where  he  thinks  he  has  not  the  least  use  of,  or  help  from  them. 
And  the  rather,  because  this  observing  gentleman  farther  adds, 
that  having  upon  the  occasion  of  my  book  proposed  this  to  divers 
very  ingenious  men,  he  hardly  ever  met  with  one  that  at  first 
gave  the  answer  to  it  which  he  thinks  true,  till  by  hearing  his 
reasons  they  were  convinced.] 

9.  But  this  is  not,  I  think,  usual  in  any  of  our  ideas  but  those 

received  by  sight;  because  sight,  the  most  comprehensive  of  all 

our  senses,  conveying  to  our  minds  the  ideas  of  light  and  colours, 

which  are  peculiar  only  to  that  sense;  and  also  the  far  different 

ideas  of  space,  figure  and  motion,  the  several  varieties  whereof 

change  the  appearances  of  its  proper  objects,  viz.,  light  and 

colours;  we  bring  ourselves  by  use  to  judge  of  the  one  by  the 

other.  This,  in  many  cases,  by  a  settled  habit  in  things  whereof 

we  have  frequent  experience,  is  performed  so  constantly  and  so 

quick,  that  we  take  that  for  the  perception  of  our  sensation  which 

\is  an  idea  formed  by  our  judgment;  so  that  one,  viz.,  that  of 

sensation,  serves  only  to  excite  the  other,  and  is  scarce  taken 

notice  of  itself;  as  a  man  who  reads  or  hears  with  attention  and 

/  understanding,  takes  little  notice  of  the  characters  or  sounds, 

I   but  of  the  ideas  that  are  excited  in  him  by  them. 

15.  Perception  the  inlet  of  knowledge.  —  Perception,  then, 
being  the  first  step  and  degree  towards  knowledge,'  and  the  inlet 
of  all  the  materials  of  it,  the  fewer  senses  any  man  as  well  as  any 
other  creature  hath;  and  the  fewer  and  duller  the  impressions 
are  that  are  made  by  them;  and  the  duller  the  faculties  are  that 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     245 

are  employed  about  them, —  the  more  remote  are  they  from  that 
knowledge  which  is  to  be  found  in  some  men.  But  this,  being 
in  great  variety  of  degrees  (as  may  be  perceived  amongst  men), 
cannot  certainly  be  discovered  in  the  several  species  of  animals, 
much  less  in  their  particular  individuals.  It  suffices  me  only  to 
have  remarked  here,  that  perception  is  the  first  operation*  of  all 
our  intellectual  faculties,  and  the  inlet  of  all  knowledge  into  our 
minds. 


CHAPTER   XII.    OF   COMPLEX   IDEAS 

i.  Made  by  the  mind  out  oj  simple  ones.  — We  have  hitherto 
considered  those  ideas,  in  the  reception  whereof  the  mind  is  only 
passive,  which  are  those  simple  ones  received  from  sensation 
and  reflection  before  mentioned,  whereof  the  mind  cannot  make 
one  to  itself,  nor  have  any  idea  which  does  not  wholly  consist  of 
them.  [But  as  the  mind  is  wholly  passive  in  the  reception  of  all 
its  simple Jd£.as,  so  it  exerts  several  acts  ot'  its  own,  whereby  out 
of  its  simple  ideas,  as  the  materials  and  foundations  of  the  rest, 
the  others  are  framed.  The  acts  of  the  mind  wherein  it  exerts  its 
power  over  its  simple  ideas  are  chiefly  these  three:  (i)  Com- 
bining several  simple  ideas  into  one  compound  one;  and  thus 
all  complex  ideas  are  made.  (2)  The  second  is  bringing  two 
ideas,  whethex^sjmple  or  complex,  together,  and  setting  them 
by  one  another,  so  as  to  take  a  view  of  them  at  once,  without 
uniting  them  into  one ;  by  which  way  it  gets  all  its  ideas  oj  rda- 
ti°n.s-  (3)  The  third  is  separating  them  from  all  other  ideas 
that  accompany  them  in  their  real  existence;  this  is  called  "ab- 
straction:" and  thus  all  its  general  ideas  are  made.  This  shows 

*  The  other  operations  of  the  mind  discussed  by  Locke  under  simple  ideas 
are  retention  or  memory,  discerning,  comparing,  compounding,  and  abstraction. 
His  conclusion  is  then  as  follows:  chap,  xi,  §  15.  These  are  the  beginnings 
oj  human  knowledge.  —  And  thus  I  have  given  a  short  and,  I  think,  true  his- 
tory of  the  first  beginnings  of  human  knowledge,  whence  the  mind  has  its  first 
objects,  and  by  what  steps  it  makes  its  progress  to  the  laying  in  and  storing  up 
those  ideas  out  of  which  is  to  be  framed  all  the  knowledge  it  is  capable  of ;  wherein 
I  must  appeal  to  experience  and  observation  whether  I  am  in  the  right :  the  best 
way  to  come  to  truth  being  to  examine  things  as  really  they  are,  and  not  to  con- 
clude they  are  as  we  fancy  of  ourselves,  or  have  been  taught  by  others  to  imagine. 


246  LOCKE 

man's  power  and  its  way  of  operation  to  be  much  the  same  in 
the  material  and  intellectual  world.  For,  the  materials  in  both 
being  such  as  he  has  no  power  over,  either  to  make  or  destroy, 
all  that  man  can  do  is  either  to  unite  them  together,  or  to  set 
them  by  one  another,  or  wholly  separate  them.  I  shall  here 
begin  with  the  first  of  these  in  the  consideration  of  complex  ideas, 
and  come  to  the  other  two  in  their  due  places.]  As  simple  ideas 
are  observed  to  exist  in  several  combinations  united  together, 
so  the  mind  has  a  power  to  consider  several  of  them  united  to- 
gether as  one  idea;  and  that  not  only -as  they  are  united  in  ex- 
ternal objects,  but  as  itself  has  joined  them.  Ideas  thus  made  up 
of  several  simple  ones  put  together  I  call  complex  ;  such  as  are 
beauty,  gratitude,  a  man,  an  army,  the  universe;  which,  though 
complicated  of  various  simple  ideas  or  complex  ideas  made  up 
of  simple  ones,  yet  are,  when  the  mind  pleases,  considered  each 
by  itself  as  one  entire  thing,  and  signified  by  one  name. 

2.  Made  voluntarily.  —  In  this  faculty  of  repeating  and  join- 
ing together  its  ideas,  the  mind  has  great  power  in  varying  and 
multiplying  the  objects  of  its  thoughts  infinitely  beyond  wha) 
sensation  or  reflection  furnished  it  with ;  but  all  this  still  confined 
to  those  simple  ideas  which  it  received  from  those  two  sources, 
and  which  are  the  ultimate  materials  of  all  its  compositions.  For, 
simple  ideas  are  all  from  things  themselves;  and  of  these  the 
mind  can  have  no  more  nor  other  than  what  are  suggested  to  it. 
It  can  have  no  other  ideas  of  sensible  qualities  tharrxwhat  come 
from  without  by  the  senses,  nor  any  ideas  of  other  kind  of  opera- 
tions of  a  thinking  substance  than  what  it  finds  in  itself:  but 
when  it  has  once  got  these  simple  ideas,  it  is  not  confined  barofy 
to  observation,  and  what  offers  itself  from  without;  it  can,  by 
its  own  power,  put  together  those  ideas  it  has,  and  make  new 
complex  ones  which  it  never  received  so  united. 

3.  Are  either  modes,  substances,  or  relations.  —  Complex  ideas, 
however  compounded  and  decompounded,  though  their  num- 
ber be  infinite,  and  the  variety  endless  wherewith  they  fill  and 
entertain  the  thoughts  of  men,  yet  I  think  they  may  be  all  re- 
duced under  these  three  heads :  i.  Modes.  2.  Substances.  3.  Re- 
lations. 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     247 

4.  Modes.  —  First.   Modes  I  call  such  complex  ideas  which, 
however  compounded,  contain  not  in  them  the  supposition  .of 
subsisting  by  themselves,  but  are  considered  as  dependences  on, 
or  affections  of,  substances;  such  are  the  ideas  signified  by  thej 
words,  tria«gl^l>£ratitude,  murder,  &c.    And  if  in  this  I  use 
the  word  "mode"  in  jsorne^Jiat  a  different  sense  from  its  ordi- 
nary signification,^  beg^pardSjn;  it  being  unavoidable  in  dis- 
courses differing  fronTthe  ordinary  received  notions,  either  to 
make  new  words  or  to  use  old  words  in  somewhat  a  new  signi- 
fication :  the  latter  whereof,  in  our  present  case,  is  perhaps  the 
more  tolerable  of  the  two. 

5.  Simple  and  mixed  modes.  —  Of  these  modes  there  are  two 
sorts  which  "deserve" distinct  consideration.    First.    There  are 
some  which  are  only  variations  or  different  combinations  of  the 
same  simple  idea,  without  the  mixture  of  any  other,  as  a  dozen, 
or  score;  which  are  nothing  but  the  ideas  of  so  many  distinct 
units  added  together:  and  these  I  call  simple  modes,  as  being 
contained  within  the  bounds  of  one  simple  idea.    Secondly. 
There  are  others  compounded  of  simple  ideas,  of  several  kinds, 
put  together  to  make  one  complex  one;  v.  g.,  beauty,  consisting 
of  a  certain  composition  of  colour  and  figure,  causing  delight 
in  the  beholder;  theft,  which,  being  the  concealed  change  of  the 
possession  of  any  thing,  without  the  consent  of  the  proprietor, 
contains,  as  is  visible,  a  combination  of  several  ideas  of  several 
kinds;  and  these  I  call  mixed  modes. 

6.  Substances  single  or  collective.  —  Secondly.    The  ideas  of 
substances  are  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas  as  are  taken  ( 
to  represent  distinct  particular  things  subsisting  by  themselves,  I 
in  which  the  supposea  or  confused  idea  of  substance,  such  as  it 
is,  is  always  the  firs'  and  chief.  Thus,  if  to  substance  be  joined 
the  simple  idea  of,  a  certain  dull,  whitish  colour,  with  certain 
degrees  of  weight,  hardness,  ductility,  and  fusibility,  we  have 
the  idea  of  lead;  and  a  combination  of  the  ideas  of  a  certain  sort 
of  figure,  with  the  powers  of  motion,  thought,  and  reasoning, 
joined  to  substance,  make  the  ordinary  idea  of  a  man.   Now  of 
substances  also  there  are  two  sorts  of  ideas  :  —  one  of  single 
substances,  a  itely,  as  of  a  man  or  a  sheep;  the 


248  LOCKE 

other  of  several  of  those  put  together,  as  an  army  of  men  or  flock 
of  sheep  —  which  collective  ideas  of  several  substances  thus  put 
together,  are  as  much  each  of  them  one  single  idea  as  that  of  a 
man  or  an  unit. 

7.  Relation.  —  Thirdly.  The  last  sort  of  complex  ideas  is  that 
we  call  relation,  which  consists  in  the  consideration  and  com-* 
paring  one  idea  with  another.    Of  these  several  kinds  we  shall 
treat  in  their  order. 

8.  The ^abstrusest_  ideas  from  the  two  sources.  —  If  we  trace 
the  progress  of  our  minds,  and  with  attention  observe  how  it 
repeats,  adds  together,  and  unites  its  simple  ideas  received  from 
sensation  or  reflection,  it  will  lead  us  farther  than  at  first  per- 
haps we  should  have  imagined.   And  I  believe  we  shall  find,  if 
we  warily  observe  the  originals  of  our  notions,  that  even  the  most 

\  abstruse  ideas,  how  remote  soever  they  may  seem  from  sense, 
or  from  any  operation  of  our  own  minds,  are  yet  only  such  as 
the  understanding  frames  to  itself,  by  repeating  and  joining  to- 
gether ideas  that  it  had  either  from  objects  of  sense,  or  from  its 
own  operations  about  them;  so  that  those  even  large  and  abstract 
ideas  are  derived  from  sensation  or  reflection,  being  no  other 
than  what  the  mind,  by  the  ordinary  use  of  its  own  faculties, 
employed  about  ideas  received  from  objects  of  sense,  or  from 
the  operations  it  observes  in  itself  about  them,  may  and  does 
attain  unto. 

CHAPTER   XXIII.     OF  OUR   COMPLEX  IDEAS  OF 
SUBSTAN 

i.  Ideas  of  substances,  how  made.  ic  mind  being,  as  I 
have  declared,  furnished  with  a  great  n  r  of  the  simple  ideas 
conveyed  in  by  the  senses,  as  they  are  \  <  in  exterior  things, 
or  by  reflection  on  its  own  operations/ta  js  otice,  also,  that  a 
certain  number  of  these  simple  ideas  g«.  ,  --stantly  together; 
which  being  presumed  to  belong  to  one  th  nd  words  being 
suited  to  common  apprehensions,  and  ma  <  ;e  of  for  quick 
despatch,  are  called,  so  united  in  one  suh  L  by  one  name; 
which,  by  inadvertency,  we  are  apt  afterw  •  to  talk  of  and 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     249 

consider  as  one  simple  idea,  which  indeed  is  a  complication  of 
many  ideas  together:  because,  as  I  have  said,  not  imagining 
how  these  simple  ideas  can  subsist  by  themselves,  we  accustom 
ourselves  to_sjiipppje_^ojne_5w^£ra/ww  wherein  they  do  subsist,  | 
and  from  which  they  do  result;  which  therefore  we  call  sub-  I 
stance. 

2.  Our  idea  of  substance  in  general.  —  So  that  if  any  one  will  .• 
examine  himself  concerning  his  notion  of  pure  substance  in. 
general,  he  will  find  he  has  no  other  idea  of  it  at  all,  but  only  a-  . 
supposition  of  he  knows  not  what  support  of  such  qualities  which   / 
are  capable  of  producing  simple  ideas  in  us;  which  qualities  ' 
are  commonly  called  "  accidents."    If  any  one  should  be  asked, 
"What  is  the  subject  wherein  colour  or  weight  inheres?"  he 
would  have  nothing  to  say  but,  "The  solid  extended  parts." 
And  if  he  were  demanded,  "What  is  it  that  solidity  and  exten- 
sion inhere  in,"  he  would  not  be  in  a  much  better  case  than  the 
Indian  before  mentioned,  who,  saying  that  the  world  was  sup- 
ported by  a  great  elephant,  was  asked,  what  the  elephant  rested 
on  ?  to  which  his  answer  was,  "A  great  tortoise; "  but  being  again 
pressed  to  know  what  gave  support  to  the  broad-backed  tortoise,  I 
replied,  —  something,  he  knew  not  what.   And  thus  here,  as  in 
all  other  cases  where  we  use  words  without  having  clear  and 
distinct  ideas,  we  talk  like  children ;  who,  being  questioned  what 
such  a  thing  is  which  they  know  not,  readily  give  this  satisfac-  j 
tory  answer,  —  that  it  is  something ;  which  in  truth  signifies  no  ' 
more,  when  so  used,  either  by  children  or  men,  but  that  they 
know  not  what ;  and  that  the  thing  they  pretend  to  know  and  talk 
of,  is  what  they  have  no  distinct  idea  of  at  all,  and  so  are  per- 
fectly ignorant  of  it,  and  in  the  dark.  The  idea,  then,  we  have, 
to  which  we  give  the  general  name  substance,  being  nothing 
but  the  supposed,  but  unknown,  support  of  those  qualities  we 
find  existing,  which  we  imagine  cannot  subsist  sine  re  substante, 
"without  something  to  support  them,"  we  call  that  support 
substantia;  which,  according  to  the  true  import  of  the  word,  is, 
in  plain  English,  standing  under,  or  upholding. 

3.  Of  the  sorts  of  substances.  —  An  obscure  and  relative  idea 
of  substance  in  general  being  thus  made,  we  come  to  have  the 


250  LOCKE 

ideas  of  particular  sorts  of  substances,  by  collecting  such  com- 
binations of  simple  ideas  as  are  by  experience  and  observation 
of  men's  senses  taken  notice  of  to  exist  together,  and  are  there- 
fore supposed  to  flow  from  the  particular  internal  constitution 
or  unknown  essence  of  that  substance.  Thus  we  come  to  have. 
the  ideas  of  a  man,  horse,  gold,  water,  &c.,  of  which  substances, 
whether  any  one  has  any  other  clear  idea,  farther  than  of  certain 
simple  ideas  co-existing  together,  I  appeal  to  every  one's  own 
experience.  It  is  the  ordinary  qualities  observable  in  iron  or 
a  diamond,  put  together,  that  make  the  true  complex  idea  of 
those  substances,  which  a  smith  or  a  jeweller  commonly  knows 
better  than  a  philosopher;  who,  whatever  substantial  forms  he 
may  talk  of,  has  no  other  idea  of  those  substances  than  what  is 
framed  by  a  collection  of  those  simple  ideas  which  are  to  be 
found  in  them.  Only  we  must  take  notice,  that  our  complex 
ideas  of  substances,  besides  all  these  simple  ideas  they  are  made 
up  of,  have  always  the  confused  idea  of  something  to  which  they 
belong,  and  in  which  they  subsist  :  and  therefore  when  we  speak 
of  any  sort  of  substance,  we  say  it  is  a  thing  having  such  or  such 
qualities  ;  as,  body  is  a  thing  that  is  extended,  figured,  and  capable 
of  motion;  spirit;  a  thing  capable  of  thinking;  and  so  hardness, 
friability,  and  power  to  draw  iron,  we  say,  are  qualities  to  be 
•  found  in  a  loadstone.  These  and  the  like  fashions  of  speaking, 
:  intimate  that  the  substance  is  supposed  always  something  besides 
the  extension,  figure,  solidity,  motion,  thinking,  or  other  observ- 
,  able  ideas,  though  we  know  not  what  it  is.  . 

4.  No  clear  idea  of  substance  in  general.  —  Hence,  when  we 
talk  or  think  of  any  particular  sort  of  corporeal  substances/,  as 
horse,  stone,  &c.,  though  the  idea  we  have  of  either  of  them  be 
but  the  complication  or  collection  of  those  several  simple  ideas 
of  sensible  qualities  which  we  used  to  find  united  in  the  thing 
called  horse  or  stone;  yet  because  we  cannot  ^"Conceive  how 
they  should  subsist  alone,  nor  one  in  another,  wer  r 


existing  in,  and  supported  by,  some  common  subject;  which 
support  we  denote  by  the  name  substance,  though  it  be  certain 
we  have  no  clear  or  distinct  idea  of  that  thing  we  suppose  a 
support. 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     251 

5.  As  dear  an  idea  of  spirit  as  body.  —  The  same  happens, 
concerning  the  operations  of  the  mind;  viz.,  thinking,  reasoning,  j 
fearing,  &c.,  which  we,  concluding  not  to  subsist  of  themselves,  ! 
nor  apprehending  liow  they  can  belong  to  body,  or  be  produced 
by  it,  we  are  apt  to  think  these  the_  actions  of  some  other  sub- 
stance^ which  we  call  spirit^  whereby  yet  it  is  evident,  that  hav- 
ing no  other  idea  or  notion  of  matter,  but  something  wherein 
those  many  sensible  qualities  which  affect  our  senses  do  subsist ; 
by  supposing  a  substance  wherein  thinking,  knowing,  doubting, 
and  a  power  of  moving,  &c.,  do  subsist;  we  have  as  clear  a  notion 
of  the  substance  of  spirit  as  we  have  of  body :  the  one  being  sup- 
posed to  be  (without  knowing  what  it  is)  the  substratum  to  those 
simple  ideas  we  have  from  without ;  and  the  other  supposed  (with 
a  like  ignorance  of  what  it  is)  to  be  the  substratum  to  those  opera- 
tions which  we  experiment  in  ourselves  within.   It  is  plain,  then, 
that  the  idea  of  corporeal  substance  in  matter  is  as  remote  from 
our  conceptions  and  apprehensions  as  that  of  spiritual  substance, 
or  spirit;  and  therefore,  from  our  not  having  any  notion  of  the 
substance  of  spirit,  we  can  no  more  conclude  its  non-existence 
than  we  can,  for  the  same  reason,  deny  the  existence  of  body: 
it  being  as  rational  to  affirm  there  is  no  body,  because  we  have 
no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  substance  of  matter,  as  to  say 
there  is  no  spirit,  because  we  have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of 
the  substance  of  a  spirit. 

6.  Of  the  sorts  of  substances.  —  Whatever  therefore  be  the 
secret  and  abstract  nature  of  substance  in  general,  all  the  ideas 
we  have  of  particular  distinct  sorts  of  substances,  are  nothing 
but  several  combinations  of  simple  ideas  co-existing  in  such, 
though  unknown,  cause  of  their  union,  as  makes  the  whole  sub- 
sist of  itself.    It  is  by  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas,  and 
nothing  else,  that  we  represent  particular  sorts  of  substances  to 
ourselves ;  such  are  the  ideas  we  have  of  their  several  species  in 
our  minds ;  and  such  only  do  we,  by  their  specific  names,  signify 
to  others;  v.  g.,  man,  horse,  sun,  water,  iron;  upon  hearing  which 
words  every  one,  who  understands  the  language,  frames  in  his 
mind  a  combination  of  those  several  simple  ideas  which  he  has 
usually  observed  or  fancied  to  exist  together  under  that  denomi- 


252  .  LOCKE 

nation;  all  which  he  supposes  to  rest  in,  and  be,  as  it  were,  ad- 
herent to,  that  unknown  common  subject,  which  inheres  not  in 
anything  else :  though  in  the  mean  time  it  be  manifest,  and  every 
one  upon  inquiry  into  his  own  thoughts  will  find,  that  he  has  no 
other  idea  of  any  substance,  v.  g.,  let  it  be  gold,  horse,  iron,  man, 
vitriol,  bread,  but  what  he  has  barely  of,  those  sensible  qualities 
which  he  supposes  to  inhere  with  a  supposition  of  such  a  sub- 
stratum as  gives,  as  it  were,  a  support  to  those  qualities,  or  simple 
ideas,  which  he  has  observed  to  exist  united  together.  Thus, 
the  idea  of  the  sun  —  What  is  it  but  an  aggregate  of  those 
several  simple  ideas,  bright,  hot,  roundish,  having  a  constant 
regular  motion,  at  a  certain  distance  from  us,  —  and  perhaps 
some  other?  as  he  who  thinks  and  discourses  of  the  sun  has 
been  more  or  less  accurate  in  observing  those  sensible  quali- 
ties, ideas,  or  properties  which  are  in  that  thing  which  he  calls 
the  sun. 

9.  Three  sorts  of  ideas  make  our  complex  ones  of  substances.  — 
The  ideas  that  make  our  complex  ones  of  corporeal  substances 
are  of  these  three  sorts.  First.  The  ideas  of  the  primary_quali- 
ties  of  things  which  are  discovered  by  our  senses,  and  are  in 
them  even  when  we  perceive  them  not :  such  are  the  bulk,  figure, 
number,  situation,  and  motion  of  the  parts  of  bodies;  which  are 
really  in  them,  whether  we  take  notice  of  them  or  no.  Secondly. 
The  sensible  secondary  qualities,  which,  depending  on  these,  are 
nothing  but  the  powers  those  substances  have  to  produce  several 
j ideas  in  us  by  our  senses;  which  ideas  are  not  in  the  things  them- 
selves otherwise  than  v  as  any  thing  is  in  its  cause.  Thirdly.  The 
aptness  we  consider  in  any  substance  to  give  or  receive  such 
alterations  of  primary  qualities  as  that  the  substance  so  altered 
should  produce  in  us  different  ideas  from  what  it  did  before; 
these  are  called  active  and  passive  powers :  all  which  powers, 
as  far  as  we  have  any  notice  or  notion  of  them,  terminate  only 
in  sensible  simple  ideas.  For,  whatever  alteration  a  loadstone 
has  the  power  to  make  in  the  minute  particles  of  iron,  we  should 
have  no  notion  of  any  power  it  had  at  all  to  operate  on  iron,  did 
not  its  sensible  motion  discover  it;  and  I  doubt  not  but  there 
are  a  thousand  changes  that  bodies  we  daily  handle  have  a 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     253 

power  to  cause  in  one  another,  which  we  never  suspect,  because  / 
they  never  appear  in  sensible  effects. 

37.  Recapitulation.  —  And  thus  we  have  seen  what  kind  of 
ideas  we  have  of  substances  of  all  kinds,  wherein  they  consist, 
and  how  we  came  by  them.  From  whence,  I  think,  it  is  very 
evident, 

First,  That  all  our  ideas  of  the  several  sorts  of  substances 
are  nothing  but  collection  g  nf  ,gimp1p  irlpqg    with  &  supposition 
of  something  to  which  they  belong,  and  in  which  they  subsist;  i 
though  of  this  supposed  something  we  have  no  clear  distinct  idea 
at  all. 

Secondly,  That  all  the  simple  ideas  that,  thus  united  in  one 
common  substratum,  make  up  our  complex  ideas  of  several  sorts 
of  substances,  are  no  other  but  such  as  we  have  received  from  \ 
sensation  or  reflection.  So  that  even  in  those  which  we  think 
we  are  most  intimately  acquainted  with,  and  that  come  nearest 
the  comprehension  of  our  most  enlarged  conceptions,  we  cannot 
reach  beyond  those  simple  ideas.  And  even  in  those  which  seem 
most  remote  from  all  we  have  to  do  with,  and  do  infinitely  sur- 
pass any  thing  we  can  perceive  in  ourselves  by  reflection,  or  dis- 
cover by  sensation  in' other  things,  we  can  attain  to  nothing  but 
those  simple  ideas  which  we  originally  received  from  sensation 
or  reflection ;  as  is  evident  in  the  complex  ideas  we  have  of  angels,  ; 
and  particularly  of  God  himself. 

Thirdly,  That  most  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  our  com- 
plex ideas  of  substances,  when  truly  considered,  are  only  powers, 
however  we  are  apt  to  take  them  for  positive  qualities :  v.  g.,  the 
greatest  part  of  the  ideas  that  make  our  complex  idea  of  gold 
are  yellowness,  great  weight,  ductility,  fusibility,  and  solubility 
in  aqua  regia,  &c.,  all  united  together  in  an  unknown  substra- 
tum :  all  which  ideas  are  nothing  else  but  so  many  relations  to 
other  substances,  and  are  not  really  in  the  gold  considered  barely 
in  itself,  though  they  depend  on  those  real  and  primary  qualities 
of  its  internal  constitution,  whereby  it  has  a  fitness  differently 
to  operate  and  be  operated  on  by  several  other  substances. 


254  LOCKE 

BOOK  IV 

CHAPTER   III.      OF    THE   EXTENT    OF    HUMAN 
KNOWLEDGE 

1.  Knowledge,  as  has  been  said,  lying  in  the  perception  of 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  our  ideas,  it  follows 
from  hence  that, 

First,  No  farther  than  we  have  ideas.  —  First,  We  can  have\ 
knowledge  no  farther  than  we  have  ideas. 

2.  Secondly,  No  farther  than  we  can  perceive  their  agreement ) 
or  disagreement.  —  Secondly,  That  we  can  have  no  knowledge 
.farther  than  we  can  have  perception  of  that  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement:   which  perception  being,   (i)  Either   by  intuition, 
or  the  immediate  comparing  any  two  ideas;  or,  (2)  By  reason, 
examining  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas  by  the 
intervention  of   some  others;   or,  (3)  By  sensation,  perceiving 
the  existence  of  particular  things ;  hence  it  also  follows, 

3.  Thirdly,  Intuitive  knowledge  extends  itself  not  to* all  the 
relations  of  all  our  ideas.  —  Thirdly,  That  we  cannot  have  an 
intuitive  knowledge  that  shall  extend  itself  to  all  our  ideas,  and 
all  that  we  would  know  about  them ;  because  we  cannot  examine 

'  and  perceive  all  the  relations  they  have  one  to  another  by  juxta- 
position, or  an  immediate  comparison  one  wTfrT  another.  Thus, 
having  the  ideas  of  an  obtuse  and  an  acute- angled  triangle,  both 
drawn  from  equal  bases,  and  between  parallels,  I  can 'by  intui- 
tive knowledge  perceive  the  one  not  to  be  the  other;  but  cannot 
that  way  know  whether  they  be  equal  or  no:  because  their  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  in  equality  can  never  be  perceived  by  an 
immediate  comparing  them :  the  difference  of  figure  makes  their 
parts  incapable  of  an  exact  immediate  application;  and  there- 
.  fore  there  is  need  of  some  intervening  qualities  to  measure  them 
•  by,  which  is  demonstration  or  rational  knowledge. 

4.  Fourthly,    Nor   demonstrative    knowledge.  —  Fourthly,    It 
follows  also,  from  what   is  above  observed,  that  our  rational 
knowledge  cannot  reach  to  the  whole  extent  of  our  ideas :  because 
between  two  different  ideas  we  would  examine,  we  cannot  al- 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     255 

ways  find  such  mediums  as  we  can  connect  one  to  another  with       \^, 
an  intuitive  knowledge,  in  all  the  parts  of  the  deduction;  and 
wherever  that  fails,  we  come  short  of  knowledge  and  demon- 
stration. 

5.  Fifthly,    Sensitive    knowledge    narrower    than    either.  - 
Fifthly,  Sensitive  knowledge,  reaching  no  farther  than  the  ex- 
istence of  things  actually  present~to-€oir_sense_s,  is  yet  much 
narrower  than  either  of  the  former. 

6.  Sixthly,  Our  knowledge  therefore  narrower  than  our  ideas.  - 
From  all  which  it  is  evident,  that  the  extent  of  our  knowledge 
comes  not  only  short  of  the  reality  of  things,  but  even  of  the  ex- 1 
tent  of  our^wnjdeas.  Though  our  knowledge  be  limited  to  our 
ideas,  and  cannot  exceed  them  either  in  extent  or  perfection: 
and  though  these  be  very  narrow  bounds  in  respect  of  the  extent 
of  all  being,  and  far  short  of  what  we  may  justly  imagine  to  be 
in  some  even  created  understandings  not  tied  down  to  the  dull 
and  narrow  information  that  is  to  be  received  from  some  few 
and  not  very  ajnte  ways  of  perception,  such  as  are  our  senses; 
yet  it  would  be  well  with  us  if  our  knowledge  were  but  as  large 
as  our  ideas,  and  there  were  not  many  doubts  and  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  ideas  we  have,  whereof  we  are  not,  nor  I  believe  ever 
shall  be  in  this  world,  resolved.   Nevertheless,  I  do  not  question 
but  that  human  knowledge,  under  the  present  circumstances  of 
our  beings  and  constitutions,  may  be  carried  much  farther  than 
it  hitherto  has  been,  if  men  would  sincerely,  and  with  freedom 
of  mind,  employ  all  that  industry  and  labour  .of  thought  in  im- 
proving the  means  of  discovering  truth  which  they  do  for  the  j ' 
colouring  or  support  of  falsehood,  to  maintain  a  system,  interest,  I 
or  party  they  are  once  engaged  in. 

But,  to  return  to  the  argument  in  hand:  our  knowledge,  I 
say,  is  not  only  limited  to  the  paucity  and  imperfections  of  the 
ideas  we  have,  and  which  we  employ  it  about,  but  even  comes 
short  of  that,  too:  but  how  far  it  reaches,  let  us  now  inquire. 

7.  How  far  our  knowledge  reaches.  —  The  affirmations  or  ne- 
gations we  make  concerning  the  ideas  we  have,  may,  as  I  have 
before  intimated  in  general,  be  reduced  to  these  four  sorts,  viz., 


256  LOCKE 

identity,  co-existence,  relation,  and  real  existence.    I  shall  ex- 
amine how  far  our  knowledge  extends  in  each  of  these  :.— 

8.  First.  Our  knowledge  oj  identity  and  diversity,  as  jar  as  our 
ideas.  —  First,  As  to  identity  and  diversity,  in  this  way  of  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas,  our  intuitive  knowledge  is  as 

?  far  extended  as  our  ideas  themselves:  and  there  can  be  no  idea  in 
I  the  mind  which  it  does  not  presently,  by  an  intuitive  knowledge, 
(  perceive  to  be  what  it  is,  and  to  be  different  from  any  other. 

9.  Secondly.   Of  co-existence,  a  very  little  way.  —  Secondly, 
As  to  the  second  sort,  which  is  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
of  our  ideas  in  co-existence,  in  this  our  knowledge  is  very  short, 

jjthough  in  this  consists  the  greatest  and  most  material  part  of 

Uour  knowledge  concerning  substances.    For  our  ideas  of  the 

species  of  substances  being,  as  I  have  showed,  nothing  but  cer- 

i  tain  collections  of  simple  ideas  united  in  one  subject,  and  so 

(  co-existing  together;  —  v.  g.,  our  idea  of  "flame"  is  a  body  hot, 

luminous,  and  moving  upward;  of  "gold,"  a  body  heavy  to  a 

certain  degree,  yellow,  malleable,  and  fusible.tphese,  or  some 

such  complex  ideas  as  these  in  men's  minds,  do  these  two  names 

of  the  different  substances,   "flame"  and  "gold,"  stand  for. 

When  we  would  know  any  thing  farther  concerning  these,  or 

any  other  sort  of  substances,  what  do  we  inquire  but  what  other 

qualities  or  powers  these  substances  have  or  have  not  ?  which  is 

nothing  else  but  to  know  what  other  simple  ideas  do  or  do  not 

1  co-exist  with  those  that  make  up  that  complex  idea. 

1 8.  Thirdly,  Of  other  relations,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  how  jar.  - 
As  to  the  third  sort  of  our  knowledge,  viz.,  the  agreement  or  dis- 
/  agreement  of  any  of  our  ideas  in  any  other  relation :  this,  as  it  "is 
I  the  largest  field  of  our  knowledge,  so  it  is  hard  to  determine  how 
far  it  may  extend:  because  the  advances  that  are  made  in  this 
part  of  knowledge  depending  on  our  sagacity  in  finding  inter- 
mediate ideas  that  may  show  the  relations  and  habitudes  of  ideas, 
whose  co-existence  is  not  considered,  it  is  a  hard  matter  to  tell 
when  we  are  at  an  end  of  such  discoveries,  and  when  reason  has 
all  the  helps  it  is  capable  of  for  the  finding  of  proofs,  or  examin- 
ing the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  remote  ideas.  They  that 
axe  ignorant  of  algebra,  cannot  imagine  the  wonders  in  this  kind 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     257 

to  be  done  by  it:  and  what  farther  improvements  and  helps,  ad- 
vantageous to  other  parts  of  knowledge,  the  sagacious  mind  of 
man  may  yet  find  out,  it  is  not  easy  to  determine.  This  at  least 
I  believe,  that  the  ideas  of  quantity  are  not  those  alone  that  are 
capable  of  demonstration  and  knowledge;  and  that  other,  and 
perhaps  more  useful,  parts  of  contemplation  would  afford  us 
certainty,  if  vices,  passions,  and  domineering  interest  did  not 
oppose  or  menace  such  endeavours. 

23^.  Fourthly,  Of  real  existence.  We  have  an  INTUITIVE  know- 
ledge of  our  own,  DEMONSTRATIVE  of  God's,  SENSITIVE  of  some 
jew  other  things.  —  As  to  the  fourth  sort  of  our  knowledge,  viz., 
of  the  real  actual  existence  of  things,  we  have  an  intuitivt 
knowledge  of  our  own  existence ;  and  a  demonstrative  knowledge 
of  the  existence  of  a  God;  of  the  existence  of  any  thing  else, 
we  have  no  other  but  a  sensitive  knowledge,  which  extends  not 
beyond  the  objects  present  to  our  senses. 


9 


CHAPTER    W.     OF    THE    REALITY    OF   HUMAN 
KNOWLEDGE 

i.  Objection.  Knowledge  placed  in  ideas  may  be  all  bare  vision. 
—  I  doubt  not  but  my  reader  by  this  time  may  be  apt  to  think 
that  I  have  been  all  this  while  only  building  a  castle  in  the  air; 
and  be  ready  to  say  to  me,  "To  what  purpose  all  this  stir? 
'Knowledge,'  say  you,  'is  onl^the_perception  of  the  agreemem 
or  disagreement  of  our  own  ideas;'  but  who  knows  what  those 
ideas  may  be  ?  Is  there  any  thing  so  extravagant  as  the  imagi- 
nations of  men's  brains  ?  Where  is  the  head  that  has  no  chimeras 
in  it?  Or  if  there  be  a  sober  and  a  wise  man,  what  difference 
will  there  be,  by  your  rules,  between  his  knowledge,  and  that 
of  the  most  extravagant  fancy  in  the  world?  They  both  have 
their  ideas,  and  perceive  their  agreement  and  disagreement  one 
with  another.  If  there  be  any  difference  between  them,  the  ad- 
vantage will  be  on  the  warm-headed  man's  side,  as  having  the 
more  ideas,  and  the  more  lively.  And  so,  by  your  rules,  he  will 
be  the  more  knowing.  If  it  be  true,  that  all  knowledge  lies  only 


258  LOCKE 

in  the  perception  of  the  agreeement  or  disagreement  of  our  own 
ideas,  the  visions  of  an  enthusiast,  and  the  reasonings  of  a  sober 
man,  will  be  equally  certain.  It  is  no  matter  how  things  are :  so 
a  man  observe  but  the  agreement  of  his  own  imaginations,  and 
talk  conformably,  it  is  all  truth,  all  certainty.  Such  castles  in  the 
air  will  be  as  strongholds  of  truth  as  the  demonstrations  of  Euclid. 
That  an  harpy  is  not  a  centaur,  is  by  this  way  as  certain  know- 
ledge, and  as  much  a  truth,  as  that  a  square  is  not  a  circle. 

"But  of  what  use  is  all  this  fine  knowledge  of  men's  own  im- 
aginations, to  a  man  that  inquires  after  the  reality  of  things  ?  It 
matters  not  what  men's  fancies  are,  it  is  the  knowledge  of  things 
that  is  only  to  be  prized:  it  is  this  alone  gives  a  value  to  our 
reasonings,  and  preference  to  one  man's  knowledge  over  another's, 
that  it  is  of  things  as  they  really  are,  and  not  of  dreams  and 
fancies." 

2.  Answer.  Not  so  where  ideas  agree  with  things.  —  To  which 
I  answer,  That  if  our  knowledge  of  our  ide^fcrminate  in  them, 
and  reach  no  farther,  where  there  is  someth^Barther  intended, 
our  most  serious  thoughts  will  be  of  little  ^fce  use  than  the 
reveries  of  a  crazy  brain ;  and  the  truths  built  thereon  of  no  more 
weight  than  the  discourses  of  a  man  who  sees  things  clearly  in 
a  dream,  and  with  great  assurance  utters  them.   But  I  hope  be- 
fore I  have  done  to  make  it  evident  timt  this  way  of  certainty, 
by  the  knowledge  of  our  own  ideas,  goes  a  little  farther  than  bare 
imagination;  and  I  believe  it  will  appear,  that  all  the  certainty 
of  general  truths  a  man  has  lies  in  nothing  else. 

3.  It  is  evident  the  mind  knows  not  things  immediately,  but 
only  by  the  intervention  of  the  ideas  it  has  of  them.   Our  know- 
ledge therefore  is  real  only  so  far  as  there  is  a  conformity  be- 
tween our  ideas  and  the  reality  of  things.  But  what  shall  be  here 
the  criterion?   How  shall  the  mind,  when  it  perceives  nothing 
but  its  own  ideas,  know  that  they  agree  with  things  themselves  ? 
This,  though  it  seems  not  to  want  difficulty,  yet  I  think  there  be 
two  sorts  of  ideas  that  we  may  be  assured  agree  with  things. 

4.  As,  First,  all  simple  ideas  do.  —  First,  The  first  are  simple 
ideas,  which  since  the  mind,  as  has  been  showed,  can  by  no 
means  make  to  itself,  must  necessarily  be  the  product  of  things 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING     259 

operating  on  the  mind  in  a  natural  way,  and  producing  therein 
those  perceptions  which  by  the  wisdom  and  will  of  our  Maker 
they  are  ordained  and  adapted  to.  From  whence  it  follows,  that 
simple  ideas  are  not  fiction's  of  ^uFfancies,  but  the  natural  and 
regular  productions  of  things  without  us  really  operating  upon 
us;  and  so  carry  with  them  all  the  conformity  which  is  intended, 
or  which  our  state  requires ;  for  they  represent  to  us  things  under 
those  appearances  which  they  are  fitted  to  produce  in  us,  whereby 
we  are  enabled  to  distinguish  the  sorts  of  particular  substances, 
to  discern  the  states  they  are  in,  and  so  to  take  them  for  our 
necessities,  and  apply  them  to  our  uses.  Thus  the  idea  of  white-, 
ness  or  bitterness,  as  it  is  in  the  mind,  exactly  answering  that 
power  which  is  in  any  body  to  produce  it  there,  has  all  the  real 
conformity  it  can  or  ought  to  have  with  things  without  us.  And  , 
this  conformity  between  our  simple  ideas  and  the  existence  of 
things  is  sufficient  for  real  knowledge. 

5.  Secondly,  *Vl  complex  ideas  except  of  substances.  —  Sec- 
ondly, All  ourjBnplex  ideas,  except  those  of  substances,  being 
archetypes  of  me  mind's  own  making,  not  intended  to  be  the     • 
copies  «of  any  thing,  nor  referred  to  the  existence  of  any  thing, 

as  to  their  originals,  cannot  want  any  conformity  necessary  to 
real  knowledge.  For  that  which  is  not  designed  to  represent  any  _ 
thing  but  itself,  can  never  be  capable  of  a  wrong  representation, 
nor  mislead  us  from  the  true  apprehension  of  any  thing  by  its 
dislikeness  to  it;  and  such,  excepting  those  of  substances,  are 
all  our  complex  ideas :  which,  as  I  have  showed  in  another  place, 
are  combinations  of  ideas  which  the  mind  by  its  free  choice  puts- 
together  without  considering  any  connexion  they  have  in  nature. 
And  hence  it  is,  that  in  all  these  sorts  the. ideas  themselves  are 
considered  as  the  archetypes,  and  things  no  otherwise  regarded 
but  as  they  are  conformable  to  them.  So  that  we  cannot  but  be 
infallibly  certain,  that  all  the  knowledge  we  attain  concerning 
these  ideas  is  real,  and  reaches  things  themselves;  because  in  all 
our  thoughts,  reasonings,  and  discourses  of  this  kind,  we  intend 
things  no  farther  than  as  they  are  conformable  to  our  ideas.  So 
that  in  these  we  cannot  miss  of  a  certain  and  undoubted  reality. 

6.  Hence  the  reality  of  mathematical  knowledge.  —  I  doubt 


5o     -  LOCKE 

but  it  will  be  easily  granted  that  the  knowledge  we  have  of 
mathematical  truths,  is  not  only  certain  but  real  knowledge; 
and  not  the  bare  empty  vision  of  vain,  insignificant  chimeras  of 
the  brain ;  and  yet,  if  we  will  consider,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  only 
of  our  own  ideas.  The  mathematician  considers  the  truth  and 
properties  belonging  to  a  rectangle  or  circle,  only  as  they  are  in 
idea  in  his  own  mind.  For  it  is  possible  he  never  found  either 
of  them  existing  mathematically,  i.  e.,  precisely  true,  in  his  life. 
But  yet  the  knowledge  he  has  of  any  truths  or  properties  belong- 
ing to  a  circle,  or  any  other  mathematical  figure,  is  neverthe- 
less true  and  certain  even  of  real  things  existing;  because  real 
things  are  no  farther  concerned,  nor  intended  to  be  meant  by 
any  such  propositions,  than  as  things  really  agree  to  those  arche- 
types in  his  mind.  Is  it  true  of  the  idea  of  a  triangle,  that  its 
three  angles  are  equal  to  two  right  ones  ?  It  is  true  also  of  a 
triangle  wherever  it  really  exists.  Whatever  other  figure  exists, 
that  it  is  not  exactly  answerable  to  that  idea  cj^  triangle  in  his 
mind,  is  not  at  all  concerned  in  that  propositi^B  And  therefore 
he  is  certain  all  his  knowledge  concerning  surh  ideas  is  real 
knowledge :  because,  intending  things  no  farther  than  they  agree 
with  those  his  ideas,  he  is  sure  what  he  knows  concerning  those 
figures  when  they  have  barely  an  ideal  existence  in  his  mind, 
will  hold  true  of  them  also  when  they  have  a  real  existence  in 
matter;  his  consideration  being  barely  of  those  figures,  which 
are  the  same  wherever  or  however  they  exist. 

7.  And  of  moral.  —  And  hence  it  follows  that  moral  knowledge 
is  as  capable  of  real  certainty  as  mathematics.  For,  certainty 
being  but  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
our  ideas,  and  demonstration  nothing  but  the  perception  of  such 
agreement  by  the  intervention  of  other  ideas  or  mediums,  6ur 
moral  ideas  as  well  as  mathematical  being  archetypes  them- 
selves, and  so  adequate  and  complete  ideas,  all  the  agreement 
or  disagreement  which  we  shall  find  in  them  will  produce  real 
knowledge,  as  well  as  in  mathematical  figures. 

ii.  Ideas  of  substances  have  their  archetypes  without  us.  — 
Thirdly,  There  is  another  sort  of  complex  ideas,  which  being 
:  ?ferred  to  archetypes  without  us  may  differ  from  them,  a!nd  so 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN,  UNDERSTANDING    261 

our  knowledge  about  them  may  come  short  of  being  real.   Such 
are  our  ideas  of  substances,  which  consisting  of  a  collection  of 
simple  ideas,  supposed  taken  from  the  works  of  nature,  may 
yet  vary  from  them,  by  having  more  or  different  ideas  united  in 
them  than  are  to  be  found  united  in  the  things  themselves:  from  f 
whence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  they  may  and  often  do  fail  of  being/ 
exactly  conformable  to  things  themselves, 

12.  So  jar  as  they  agree  with  those,  so  jar  our  knowledge  con- 
cerning them  is  real.  —  I  say,  then,  that  to  have  ideas  of  sub- 
stances which,  by  being  conformable  to  things,  may  afford  us 
real  knowledge,  it  is  not  enough,  as  in  modes,  to  put  together 
such  ideas  as  have  no  inconsistence,  though  they  did  never  before 
so  exist;  v.  g.,  the  ideas  of  sacrilege  or  perjury,  &c.,  were  as  real/ 
and  true  ideas  before  as  after  the  existence  of  any  such  fact.  But- 
our  ideas  of  substances,  being  supposed  copies,  and  referred  to 
archetypes  without  us,  must  still  be  taken  from  something  that ; 
does  or  has  existed;  they  must  not  consist  of  ideas  put  together 
at  the  pleasure  of  our  thoughts  without  any  real  pattern  they 
were  taken  from,  though  we  can  perceive  no  inconsistence  in 
such  a  combination.   The  reason  whereof  is,  because  we  know- 
ing not  what  real  constitution  it  is  of  substances  whereon  our 
simple  ideas  depend,  and  which  really  is  the  cause  of  the  strict 
union  of  some  of  them  one  with  another,  and  the  exclusion  of 
others;  there  are  very  few  of  them  that  we  can  be  sure  are  or 
are  not  inconsistent  in  nature,  any  farther  than  experience  and 
sensible  observation  reach.    Herein,  therefore,  is  founded  the  j 
reality  of  our  knowledge  concerning  substances  —  That  all  our  ; 
complex  ideas  of  them  must  be  such,  and  such  only,  as  are  made  i 
up  of  such  simple  ones  as  have  been  discovered  to  co-exist  in  i 
nature.  And  our  ideas,  being  thus  true,  though  not  perhaps  very  ' 
exact  copies,  are  yet  the  subjects  of  real  (as  far  as  we  have  any) 
knowledge  of  them:  which,  as  has  been  already  showed,  will  not^. 
be  found  to  reach  very  far;  but  so  far  as  it  does,  it  will  still  be  3 
real  knowledge.    Whatever  ideas  we  have,  the  agreement  \\ 
find  they  have  with  others  will  still  be  knowledge.  If  those  idee 
be  abstract,  it  will  be  general  knowledge.    But  to  make  it  re; 
concerning  substances,  the  ideas  must  be  taken  from  the  real 


262  LOCKE 

existence  of  things.  Whatever  simple  ideas  have  been  found  to 
co-exist  in  any  substance,  these  we  may  with  confidence  join 
together  again,  and  so  make  abstract  ideas  of  substances.  For 
whatever  have  once  had  an  union  in  nature,  may  be  united 
again. 

1 8.  Recapitulation.  —  Wherever  we  perceive  the  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  any  of  our  ideas,  there  is  certain  knowledge : 
and  wherever  we  are  sure  those  ideas  agree  with  the  reality  of 
things,  there  is  certain  real  knowledge.  Of  which  agreement  of 
our  ideas  with  the  reality  of  things  having  here  given  the  marks, 
I  think  I  have  shown  wherein  it  is  that  certainty,  real  certainty, 
consists.  Which,  whatever  it  was  to  others,  was^I  confess,  to  me 
heretofore  one  of  those  desiderata  which  I  found  great  want  of. 


GEORGE  BERKELEY 

(1685-1753) 

A  TREATISE  CONCERNING  THE  PRINCIPLES 
OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE* 

i.  IT  is  evident  to  any  one  who  takes  a  survey  of  the  objects  oj 
human  knowledge,  that  they  are  either  ideas  ^actually  imprinted 
on  the  senses;  or  else  such  as  are  perceived  by  attending  to  the 
passions  and  operations  of  the  mind;  or  lastly,  ideas  formed 
by  help  of  memory  and  imagination  —  either  compounding, 
dividing,  or  barely  representing  those  originally  perceived  in  the 
aforesaid  ways.  By  sight  I  have  the  ideas  of  light  and  colours, 
with  their  several  degrees  and  variations.  By  touch  I  perceive 
hard  and  soft,  heat  and  cold,  motion  and  resistance,  and  of  all 
these  more  and  less  either  as  to  quantity  or  degree.  Smelling 
furnishes  me  with  odours;  the  palate  with  tastes;  and  hearing 
conveys  sounds  to  the  mind  in  all  their  variety  of  tone  and  com- 
position. And  as  several  of  these  are  observed  to  accompany 
each  other,  they  come  to  be  marked  by  one  name,  and  so  to  be 
reputed  as  one  thing.  Thus,  for^example,  a  certain  colour,  taste, 
smell,  figure  and  consistence  having  being  observed  to  go  together, 
are  accounted  one  distinct  thing,  signified  by  the  name  apple; 
other  collections  of  ideas  constitute  a  stone,  a  tree,  a  book, 
and  the  like  sensible  things  ;  which  as  they  are  pleasing  or  dis- 
agreeable excite  the  passions  of  love,  hatred,  joy,  grief,  and  so 
forth. 

2.  But,  besides  all  that  endless  variety  of  ideas  or  objects 
of  knowledge,  there  is  likewise  something  which  knows  or  per- 
ceives them,  and  exercises  divers  operations,  as  willing,  imagining, 
remembering,  about  them.  This  perceiving,  active  being  is  what 
I  call  mind,  spirit,  soul,  or  myself.  By  which  words  I  do  not 
denote  any  one  of  my  ideas,  but  a  thing  entirely  distinct  from 

*  Dublin,  1710  ;  26.  ed.,  London,  1734.    Reprinted  here  from  the  second  edi- 
tion. 


264  BERKELEY 

them,  wherein  they.^ejdst,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  whereby 
icy  are  perceived  —  for  the  existence  of  an  idea  consists  in 
being  perceived.  \ 

3.  That  neither  our  thoughts,  nor  passions,  nor  ideas  formed 
by  the  imagination,  exist  without  the  mind,  is  what  everybody 
will  allow.  And  to  me  it  is  no  less  evident  that  the  various  sensa- 
tions, or  ideas  imprinted  on  the  sense,  however  blended  or  com- 
bined together  (that  is,  whatever  objects  they  compose),  cannot 
exist  otherwise  than  in  a  mind  perceiving  them.  —  I  think  an 
intuitive  knowledge  may  be  obtained  of  this  by  any  one  that  shall 
attend  to  what  is  meant   by  the  term  exist,  when  applied   to 
sensible  things.   The  table  I  write  on  I  say  exists,  that  is,  I  see 
and  feel  it ;  and  if  I  were  out  of  my  study  I  should  say  it  existed  — 
meaning  thereby  that  if  I  was  in  my  study  I  might  perceive  it, 
or  that  some  other  spirit  actually  does  perceive  it.   There  was 
an  odour,  that  is,  it  was  smelt;  there  was  a  sound,  that  is,  it  was 
heard ;  a  colour  or  figure,  and  it  was  perceived  by  sight  or  touch. 
This  is  all  that  I  can  understand  by  these  and  the  like  expressions. 
For  as  to  what  is  said  of  the  absolute  existence  of  unthinking 
things  without  any  relation  to  their  being  perceived,  that  is  to  me 
perfectly  unintelligible.   Their  esse  is  percipi,  nor  is  it  possible 
they  should  have  any  existence  out  of  the  minds  or  thinking 
things  which  perceive  them.     H0^ 

4.  It  is  indeed  an  opinion  strangely  prevailing  amongst  men, 
that  houses,  mountains,  rivers,  and  in  a  word  all  sensible  objects, 
have  an  existence,  natural  or  real,  distinct  from  their  being  per- 
ceived by  the  understanding.   But,  with  how  great  an  assurance 
and  acquiescence  soever  this  principle  may  be  entertained  in 
the  world,  yet  whoever  shall  find  in  his  heart  to  call  it  in  question 
may,  if  I  mistake  not,  perceive  it  to  involve  a  manifest  contra- 
diction. For,  what  are  the  fore-mentioned  objects  but  the  things 
we  perceive  by  sense  ?  and  what  do  we  perceive  besides  our  own 
ideas  or  sensations  ?  and  is  it  not  plainly  repugnant  that  any  one 
of  these,  or  any  combination  of  them,  should  exist  unperceived  ? 

5.  If  we  thoroughly  examine  this  tenet  it  will,  perhaps,  be 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    265 

found  at  bottom  to  depend  on  the  doctrine  of  abstract  ideas. 

For  can  there  be  a  nicer  strain  of  abstraction  than  to  distinguish 
the  existence  of  sensible  objects  from  their  being  perceived,  so 
as  to  conceive  them  existing  unperceived?  Light  and  colours, 
heat  and  cold,  extension  and  figures  —  in  a  word  the  things  we 
see  and  feel  —  what  are  they  but  so  many  sensations,  notions, 
ideas,  or  impressions  on  the  sense  ?  and  is  it  possible  to  separate, 
even  in  thought,  any  of  these  from  perception  ?  For  my  part,  I 
might  as  easily  divide  a  thing  from  itself.  I  may,  indeed,  divide 
in  my  thoughts,  or  conceive  apart  from  each  other,  those  things 
which,  perhaps,  I  never  perceived  by  sense  so  divided.  Thus, 
I  imagine  the  trunk  of  a  human  body  without  the  limbs,  or  con- 
ceive the  smell  of  a  rose  without  thinking  on  the  rose  itself.  So 
far,  I  will  not  deny,  I  can  abstract  —  if  that  may  properly  be 
called  abstraction  which  extends  only  to  the  conceiving  separately 
such  objects  as  it  is  possible  may  really  exist  or  be  actually  per- 
ceived asunder.  But  my  conceiving  or  imagining;  power  does 
notj^xtend  beyond  the  possibility  of  real  existence  or  p£rception^ 
Hence,  as  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  see  or  feel  anything  without 
an  actual  sensation  of  that  thing,  so  is  it  impossible  for  me  to  con- 
ceive in  my  thoughts  any  sensible  thing  or  object  distinct  from 
the  sensation  or  perception  of  it. 

6.  Some  truths  there  are  so  near  and  obvious  to  the  mind  that 
a  man  need  only  open  his  eyes  to  see  them.  Such  I  take  this  im- 
portant one  to  be,  viz.,  that  all  the  choir  of  heaven  and  furniture 
of  the  earth,  in  a  word  all  those  bodies  which  compose 
frame  of  the  world,  have  not  any  subsistence  without 
that  their  being  is  to  be  perceived  or  known;  that  consequently 
so  long  as  they  are  not  actually  perceived  by  me,  or  do  not  exist 
in  my  mind  or  that  of  any  other  created  spirit,  they  must  either 
have  no  existence  at  all,  or  else  subsist  in  the  mind  of  some 
Eternal  Spirit  —  it  being  perfectly  unintelligible,  and  involving 
all  the  absurdity  of  abstraction,  to  attribute  to  any  single  part 
of  them  an  existence  independent  of  a  spirit.  To  be  convinced 
of  which,  the  reader  need  only  reflect,  and  try  to  separate  in  his 
own  thoughts  the  being  of  a  sensible  thing  from  its  being  per- 
ceived. 


266  BERKELEY 

7.  From  what  has  been  said  it  is  evident  there  is  not  any  other 
Substance  than  Spirit,  or  that   which  perceives.    But,  for  the 
fuller  demonstration  of  this  point,  let  it  be  considered  the  sensible 
qualities  are  colour,  figure,  motion,  smell,  taste,  &c.,  i.  e.  the 
ideas  perceived  by  sense.  Now,  for  an  idea  to  exist  in  an  wiper-, 
ceiving  thing  is  a  manifest  contradiction,  for  to  have  an  idea  is 
all  one  as  to  perceive;  that  therefore  wherein  colour,  figure,  &c. 

'.exist  must  perceive  them;  hence   it  is  clear  there   can  be  no 
unthinking  substance  or  substratum  of  those  ideas. 

8.  But,  say  you,  though  the  ideas  themselves  do  not  exist 
without  the  mind,  yet  there  may  be  things  like  them,  whereof 
they  are  copies  or  resemblances,  which  things  exist  without  the 
mind  in  an  unthinking  substance.  I  answer,  an  idea  can  be  like 
nothing  but  an  idea;  a  colour  or  figure  can  be  like  nothing  but 
another  colour  or  figure.   If  we  look  but  never  so  little  into  our 
own  thoughts,  we  shall  find  it  impossible  for  us  to  conceive  a  like- 
ness except  only  between  our  ideas.    Again,  I  ask  whether  those 
supposed  originals  or  external  things,  of  which  our  ideas  are  the 
pictures  or  representations,  be  themselves  perceivable  or  no  ?  If 
they  are,  then  they  are  ideas  and  we  have  gained  our  point ;  but 
if  you  say  they  are  not,  I  appeal  to  any  one  whether  it  be  sense  to 
assert  a  colour  is  like  something  which  is  invisible ;  hard  or  soft, 
like  something  which  is  intangible;  and  so  of  the  rest. 

9.  Some  there  are  who  make  a  distinction  betwixt  primary 
and  secondary  qualities.*    By  the  former  they  mean  extension, 
figure,  motion,  rest,  solidity  or  impenetrability,  and  number; 
by  the  latter  they  denote  all  other  sensible  qualities,  as  colours, 
sounds,  tastes,  and  so  forth.   The  ideas  we  have  of  these  they 
acknowledge  not  to  be  the  resemblances  of  anything  existing 
without  the  mind,  or  unperceived,  but  they  will  have  our  ideas 
of  the  primary  qualities  to  be  patterns  or  images  of  things  which 
exist  without  the  mind,  in  an  unthinking  substance  which  they 
call  Matter.    By  Matter,  therefore,  we  are  to  understand  an  inert, 
senseless  substance,  in  which  extension,  figufe,  and  motion  do 

*  See  Locke's  Essay,  bk.  ii,  ch.  viii,  supra,  pp.  238-239. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    267 

actually  subsist.  But  it  is  evident,  from  what  we  have  already 
shewn,  that  extension,  figure,  and  motion  are  only  ideas  existing 
in  the  mind,  and  that  an  idea  can  be  like  nothing  but  another 
idea,  and  that  consequently  neither  they  nor  their  archetypes 
can  exist  in  an  unperceiving  substance.  Hence,  it  is  plain  that 
the  very  notion  of  what  is  called  Matter  or  corporeal  substance, 
involves  a  contradiction  in  it. 

10.  They  who  assert  that  figure,  nc.otian,  and  the  rest  of  the 
primary  or  original  qualities  do  exist  without  the  mind  in  un- 
thinking substances,  do  at  the  same  time  acknowledge  that 
colours,  sounds,  heat,  cold,  and  such  like  secondary  qualities, 
do  not  —  which  they  tell  us  are  sensations  existing  in  the  mind 
alone,  that  depend  on  and  are  occasioned  by  the  different  size, 
texture,  and  motion  of  the  minute  particles  of  matter.  This  they 
take  for  an  undoubted  truth,  which  they  can  demonstrate  be- 
yond all  exception.  Now,  if  it  be  certain  that  those  original  quali- 
ties are  inseparably  united  with  the  other  sensible  qualities, 
and  not,  even  in  thought,  capable  of  being  abstracted  from 
them,  it  plainly  follows  that  they  exist  only  in  the  mind.   But  I 
desire  any  one  to  reflect  and  try  whether  he  can,  by  any  abstrac- 
tion of  thought,  conceive  the  extension  and  motion  of  a  body 
without  all  other  sensible  qualities.    For  my  own  part,  I  see 
evidently  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  frame  an  idea  of  a  body 
extended  and  moving,  but  I  must  withal  give  it  some  colour  or 
other  sensible  quality  which  is  acknowledged  to  exist  only  in  the 
mind.   In  short,  extension,  figure,  and  motion,  abstracted  from 
all  other  qualities,  are  inconceivable.  Where  therefore  the  other 
sensible  qualities  are,  there  must  these  be  also,  to  wit,  in  the 
mind  and  nowhere  else. 

1 1 .  Again,  great  and  small,  swift  and  slow,  are  allowed  to  exist 
nowhere  without  the  mind,  being  entirely  relative,  and  changing 
as  the  frame  or  position  of  the  organs  of  sense  varies.   The  ex- 
tension therefore  which  exists  without  the  mind  is  neither  great 
nor  small,  the  motion  neither  swift  nor  slow,  that  is,  they  are 
nothing  at  all.   But,  say  you,  they  are  extension  in  general,  and 
motion  in  general :  thus  we  see  how  much  the  tenet  of  extended 
movable  substances  existing  without  the  mind  depends  on  the 


268  BERKELEY 

strange  doctrine  of  abstract  ideas.  And  here  I  cannot  but  re- 
mark how  nearly  the  vague  and  indeterminate  description  of 
Matter  or  corporeal  substance,  which  the  modern  philosophers 
are  run  into  by  their  own  principles,  resembles  that  antiquated 
and  so  much  ridiculed  notion  of  materia  prima,  to  be  met  with 
in  Aristotle  and  his  followers.  Without  extension  solidity  cannot 
be  conceived;  since  therefore  it  has  been  shewn  that  extension 
exists  not  in  an  unthinking  substance,  the  same  must  also  be 
true  of  solidity. 

12.  That  number  is  entirely  the  creature  of  the  mind,  even 
though  the  other  qualities  be  allowed  to  exist  without,  will  be 
evident  to  whoever  considers  that  the  same  thing  bears  a  different 
denomination  of  number  as  the  mind  views  it  with  different 
respects.   Thus,  the  same  extension  is  one,  or  three,  or  thirty- 
six,  according  as  the  mind  considers  it  with  reference  to  a  yard, 
a  foot,  or  an  inch.  Number  is  so  visibly  relative,  and.  dependent 
on  men's  understanding,  that  it  is  strange  to  think  how  any  one 
should  give  it  an  absolute  existence  without  the  mind.   We  say 
one  book,  one  page,  one  line,  &c.;  all  these  are  equally  units, 
though  some  contain  several  of  the  others.  And  in  each  instance, 
it  is  plain,  the  unit  relates  to  some  particular  combination  of  ideas 
arbitrarily  put  together  by  the  mind. 

13.  Unity  I  know  some  will  have  to  be  a  simple  or  uncom- 
pounded  idea,  accompanying  all  other  ideas  into  the  mind. 
That  I  have  any  such  idea  answering  the  word  unity  I  do  not 
find;  and  if  I  had,  methinks  I  could  not  miss  finding  it:  on  the 
contrary,  it  should  be  the  most  familiar  to  my  understanding, 
since  it  is  said  to  accompany  all  other  ideas,  and  to  be  perceived 
by  all  the  ways  of  sensation  and  reflexion.  To  say  no  more,'  it  is 
an  abstract  idea. 

14.  I  shall  farther  add,  that,  after  the  same  manner  as  modern 
philosophers  prove  certain  sensible  qualities  to  have  no  exist- 
ence in  Matter,  or  without  the  mind,  the  same  thing  may  be 
likewise  proved  of  all  other  sensible  qualities  whatsoever.  Thus, 
for  instance,  it  is  said  that  heat  and  cold  are  affections  only  of 
the  mind,  and  not  at  all  patterns  of  real  beings,  existing  in  the 
corporeal  substances  which  excite  them,  for  that  the  same  body 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    269 

which  appears  cold  to  one  hand  seems  warm  to  another.  Now, 
why  may  we  not  as  well  argue  that  figure  and  extension  are  not 
patterns  or  resemblances  of  qualities  existing  in  Matter,  because 
to  the  same  eye  at  different  stations,  or  eyes  of  a  different  texture 
at  the  same  station,  they  appear  various,  and  cannot  therefore 
be  the  images  of  anything  settled  and  determinate  without  the 
mind?  Again,  it  is  proved  that  sweetness  is  not  really  in  the 
sapid  thing,  because  the  thing  remaining  unaltered  the  sweet- 
ness is  changed  into  bitter,  as  in  case  of  a  fever  or  otherwise 
vitiated  palate.  Is  it  not  as  reasonable  to  say  that  motion  is  not 
without  the  mind,  since  if  the  succession  of  ideas  in  the  mind 
become  swifter,  the  motion,  it  is  acknowledged,  shall  appear 
slower  without  any  alteration  in  any  external  object  ? 

15.  In  short,  let  any  one  consider  those  arguments  which  are 
thought  manifestly  to  prove  that  colours  and  taste  exist  only  in 
the  mind,  and  he  shall  find  they  may  with  equal  force  be  brought 
to  prove  the  same  thing  of  extension,  figure,  and  motion.  Though 
it  must  be  confessed  this  method  of  arguing  does  not  so  much 
prove  that  there  is  no  extension  or  colour  in  an  outward  object, 
as  that  we  do  not  know  by  sense  which  is  the  true  extension  or 
colour  of  the  object.   But  the  arguments  foregoing  plainly  shew 
it  to  be  impossible  that  any  colour  or  extension  at  all,  or  other 
sensible  quality  whatsoever,  should  exist  in  an  unthinking  sub- 
ject without  the  mind,  or  in  truth,  that  there  should  be  any  such 
thing  as  an  outward  object. 

16.  But  let  us  examine  a  little  the  received  opinion.  —  It  is 
said  extension  is  a  mode  or  accident  of  Matter,  and  that  Matter 
is  the  substratum  that  supports  it.   Now  I  desire  that  you  would 
explain  to  me  what  is  meant  by  Matter's  supporting  extension. 
Say  you,  I  have  no  idea  of  Matter  and  therefore  cannot  explain 
it.   I  answer,  though  you  have  no  positive,  yet,  if  you  have  any 
meaning  at  all,  you  must  at  least  have  a  relative  idea  of  Matter; 
though  you  know  not  what  it  is,  yet  you  must  be  supposed  to 
know  what  relation  it  bears  to  accidents,  and  what  is  meant  by 
its  supporting  them.   It  is  evident  support  cannot  here  be  taken 
in  its  usual  or  literal  sense  —  as  when  we  say  that  pillars  support 
a  building;  in  what  sense  therefore  must  it  be  taken? 


BERKELEY 

17.  If  we  inquire  into  what  the  most  accurate  philosophers 
declare  themselves  to  mean  by  material  substance,  we  shall  find 
them  acknowledge  they  have  no  other  meaning  annexed  to  those 
sounds  but  the  idea  of  Being  in  general,  together  with  the  relative 
notion  of  its  supporting  accidents.    The  general  idea  of  Being 
appeareth  to  me  the  most  abstract  and  incomprehensible  of  all 
other;  and  as  for  its  supporting  accidents,  this,  as  we  have  just 
now  observed,  cannot  be  understood  in  the  common  sense  of 
those  words;  it  must  therefore  be  taken  in  some  other  sense,  but 
what  that  is  they  do  not  explain.    So  that  when  I  consider  the 
two  parts  or  branches  which  make  the  signification  of  the  words 
material  substance,  I  am-  convinced  there  is  no  distinct  mean- 
ing annexed  to  them.  But  why  should  we  trouble  ourselves  any 
farther,  in  discussing  this  material  substratum  or  support  of  fig- 
ure and  motion,  and  other  sensible  qualities  ?    Does  it  not  sup- 
pose they  have  an  existence  without  the  mind  ?  And  is  not  this 
a  direct  repugnancy,  and  altogether  inconceivable  ? 

1 8.  But,  though  it  were  possible  that  solid,  figured,  movable 
substances  may  exist  without  the  mind,  corresponding  to  the 
ideas  we  have  of  bodies,  yet  how  is  it  possible  for  us  to  know 
this  ?  Either  we  must  know  it  by  sense  or  by  reason.    As  for  our 
senses,  by  them  we  have  the  knowledge  only  of  our  sensations, 
ideas,  or  those  things  that  are  immediately  perceived  by  sense, 
call  them  what  you  will:  but  they  do  not  inform  us  that  things 
exist  without  the  mind,  or  unperceived,  like  to  those  which  are 
perceived.    This  the  materialists  themselves  acknowledge.    It 
remains  therefore  that  if  we  have  any  knowledge  at  all  of  external 
things,  it  must  be  by  reason,  inferring  their  existence  from  what 
is  immediately  perceived  by  sense.   But  what  reason  can  induce 
us  to  believe  the  existence  of  bodies  without  the  mind,  from  what 
we  perceive,  since  the  very  patrons  of  Matter  themselves  do  not 
pretend  there  is  any  necessary  connexion  betwixt  them  and  our 
ideas  ?   I  say  it  is  granted  on  all  hands  —  and  what  happens  in 
dreams,  frenzies,  and  the  like,  puts  it  beyond  dispute  —  that  it  is 
possible  we  might  be  affected  with  all  the  ideas  we  have  now, 
though  there  were  no  bodies  existing  without  resembling  them. 
Hence,  it  is  evident  the  supposition  of  external  bodies  is  not  neces- 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    271 

sary  for  the  producing  our  ideas;  since  it  is  granted  they  are  pro- 
duced sometimes,  and  might  possibly  be  produced  always  in  the 
same  order,  we  see  them  in  at  present,  without  their  concurrence. 
*  19.  But,  though  we  might  possibly  have  all  our  sensations 
without  them,  yet  perhaps  it  may  be  thought  easier  to  conceive 
and  explain  the  manner  of  their  production,  by  supposing  ex- 
ternal bodies  in  their  likeness  rather  than  otherwise;  and  so  it 
might  be  at  least  probable  that  there  are  such  things  as  bodies 
that  excite  their  ideas  in  our  minds.  But  neither  can  this  be  said ; 
for,  though  we  give  the  materialists  their  external  bodies,  they 
by  their  own  confession  are  never  the  nearer  knowing  how  our 
ideas  are  produced;  since  they  own  themselves  unable  to  com- 
prehend in  what  manner  body  can  act  upon  spirit,  or  how  it  is 
possible  it  should  imprint  any  idea  in  the  mind.  Hence  it  is 
evident  kthe  production  of  ideas  ofr-sessatiens  in  our  minds  can 
be  no  reason  why  we  should  suppose  Matter,  or  corporeal  sub- 
stances, since  that  is  acknowledged  to  remain  equally  inexplica- 
ble with  or  without  this  supposition.  If  therefore  it  were  possible 
for  bodies  to  exist  without  the  mind,  yet  to  hold  they  do  so  must 
needs  be  a  very  precarious  opinion;  since  it  is  to  suppose,  with- 
out any  reason  at  all,  that  God  has  created  innumerable  beings 
that  are  entirely  useless,  and  serve  to  no  manner  of  purpose. 

20.  In  short,  if  there  were  external  bodies,  it  is  impossible  we 
should  ever  come  to  know  it;  and  if  there  were  not,  we  might 
have  the  very  same  reasons  to  think  there  were  that  we  have  now. 
Suppose  —  what  no  one  can  deny  possible  —  an  intelligence 
without  the  help  of  external  bodies,  to  be  affected  with  the  same 
train  of  sensations  or  ideas  that  you  are,  imprinted  in  the  same 
order  and  with  like  vividness  in  his  mind.    I  ask  whether  that 
intelligence  hath  not  all  the  reason  to  believe  the  existence  of 
corporeal  substances,   represented  by  his  ideas,   and  exciting 
them  in  his  mind,  that  you  can  possibly  have  for  believing  the 
same  thing  ?    Of  this  there  can  be  no  question  —  which  one 
consideration  were  enough  to  make  any  reasonable  person  sus- 
pect the  strength  of  whatever  arguments  he  may  think  himself 
to  have,  for  the  existence  of  bodies  without  the  mind. 

21.  Were  it  necessary  to  add  any  farther  proof  against  the 


272  BERKELEY 

existence  of  Matter  after  what  has  been  said,  I  could  instance 
several  of  those  errors  and  difficulties  (not  to  mention  impieties) 
which  have  sprung  from  that  tenet.  It  has  occasioned  number- 
less controversies  and  disputes  in  philosophy,  and  not  a  few  of 
far  greater  moment  in  religion.  But  I  shall  not  enter  into  the 
detail  of  them  in  this  place,  as  well  because  I  think  arguments 
a  posteriori  are  unnecessary  for  confirming  what  has  been,  if 
I  mistake  not,  sufficiently  demonstrated  a  priori,  as  because  I 
shall  hereafter  find  occasion  to  speak  somewhat  of  them. 

22.  I  am  afraid  I  have  given  cause  to  think  I  am  needlessly 
prolix  in  handling  this  subject.  For,  to  what  purpose  is  it  to  dilate 
on  that  which  may  be  demonstrated  with  the  utmost  evidence 
in  a  line  or  two,  to  any  one  that  is  capable  of  the  least  reflexion  ? 
It  is  but  looking  into  your  own  thoughts,  and  so  trying  whether 
you  can  conceive  it  possible  for  a  sound,  or  figure,  or  motion, 
or  colour  to  exist  without  the  mind  or  unperceived.   This  easy 
trial  may  perhaps  make  you  see  that  what  you  contend  for  is  a 
downright  contradiction.    Insomuch  that  I  am  content  to  put 
the  whole  upon  this  issue :  —  If  you  can  but  conceive  it  possible 
for  one  extended  movable  substance,  or,  in  general,  for  any  one 
idea,  or  anything  like  an  idea,  to  exist  otherwise  than  in  a  mind 
perceiving  it,  I  shall  readily  give  up  the  cause.   And,  as  for  all 
that  compages  of  external  bodies  you  contend  for,  I  shall  grant 
you  its  existence,  though  you  cannot  either  give  me  any  reason 
why  you  believe  it  exists,  or  assign  any  use  to  it  when  it  is  sup- 
posed to  exist.  I  say,  the  bare  possibility  of  your  opinions  being 
true  shall  pass  for  an  argument  that  it  is  so. 

23.  But,  say  you,  surely  there  is  nothing  easier  than  for  me 
to  imagine  trees,  for  instance,  in  a  park,  or  books  existing  in  a 
closet,  and  nobody  by  to  perceive  them.   I  answer,  you  may  so, 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  it;  but  what  is  all  this,  I  beseech  you, 
more  than  framing  in  your  mind  certain  ideas  which  you  call 
books  and  trees,  and  at  the  same  time  omitting  to  frame  the  idea 
of  any  one  that  may  perceive  them?   But  do  not  you  yourself 
perceive  or  think  of  them  all  the  while  ?  This  therefore  is  nothing 
to  the  purpose:  it  only  shews  you  have  the  power  of  imagining 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    273 

or  forming  ideas  in  your  mind:  but  it  does  not  shew  that  you 
can  conceive  it  possible  the  objects  of  your  thought  may  exist 
without  the  mind.  To  make  out  this,  it  is  necessary  that  you 
conceive  them  existing  unconceived  or  unthought  of,  which  is  a 
manifest  repugnancy.  When  we  do  our  utmost  to  conceive  the 
existence  of  external  bodies,  we  are  all  the  while  only  contem- 
plating our  own  ideas.  But  the  mind,  taking  no  notice  of  itself, 
is  deluded  to  think  it  can  and  does  conceive  bodies  existing  un- 
thought of  or  without  the  mind,  though  at  the  same  time  they  are 
apprehended  by  or  exist  in  itself.  A  little  attention  will  discover 
to  any  one  the  truth  and  evidence  of  what  is  here  said,  and  make 
it  unnecessary  to  insist  on  any  other  proofs  against  the  existence 
of  material  substance. 

24.  It  is  very  obvious,  upon  the  least  inquiry  into  our  own 
thoughts,  to  know  whether  it  be  possible  for  us  to  understand  what 
is  meant  by  the  absolute  existence  of  sensible  objects  in  them- 
selves, or  without  the  mind.    To  me  it  is  evident  those  words 
mark  out  either  a  direct  contradiction,  or  else  nothing  at  all. 
And  to  convince  others  of  this,  I  know  no  readier  or  fairer  way 
than  to  entreat  they  would  calmly  attend  to  their  own  thoughts ; 
and  if  by  this  attention  the  emptiness  or  repugnancy  of  those  ex- 
pressions does  appear,  surely  nothing  more  is  requisite  for  their 
conviction.  It  is  on  this  therefore  that  I  insist,  to  wit,  that  the  ab- 
solute existence  of  unthinking  things  are  words  without  a  mean- 
ing, or  which  include  a  contradiction.   This  is  what  I  repeat  and 
inculcate,  and  earnestly  recommend  to  the  attentive  thoughts  of 
the  reader. 

25.  All  our  ideas,  sensations,  notions,  or  the  things  which 
we  perceive,  by  whatsoever  names  they  may  be  distinguished, 
are  visibly  inactive  —  there  is  nothing  of  power  or  agency  in- 
cluded in  them.    So  that  one  idea  or  object  of  thought  cannot 
produce  or  make  any  alteration  in  another.    To  be  satisfied  of 
the  truth  of  this,  there  is  nothing  else  requisite  but  a  bare  obser- 
vation of  our  ideas.  For,  since  they  and  every  part  of  them  exist 
only  in  the  mind,  it  follows  that  there  is  nothing  in  them  but  what 
is  perceived :  but  who  ever  shall  attend  to  his  ideas,  whether  of 


274  BERKELEY 

sense  or  reflexion,  will  not  perceive  in  them  any  power  or  activity; 
there  is,  therefore,  no  such  thing  contained  in  them.  A  little 
attention  will  discover  to  us  that  the  very  being  of  an  idea  implies 
passiveness  and  inertness  in  it,  insomuch  that  it  is  impossible 
for  an  idea  to  do  anything,  or,  strictly  speaking,  to  be  the  cause 
of  anything:  neither  can  it  be  the  resemblance  or  pattern  of  any 
active  being,  as  is  evident  from  sect.  8.  Whence  it  plainly  fol- 
lows that  extension,  figure,  and  motion  cannot  be  the  cause  of  our 
sensations.  To  say,  therefore,  that  these  are  the  effects  of  powers 
resulting  from  the  configuration,  number,  motion,  and  size  of 
corpuscles,  must  certainly  be  false. 

26.  We  perceive  a  continual  succession  of  ideas;  some  are  ' 
anew  excited,  others  are  changed  or  totally  disappear.  There  is 
therefore  some  cause  of  these  ideas,  whereon  they  depend,  and 
which  produces  and  changes  them.   That  this  cause  cannot  be 
any  quality,  or  idea,  or  combination  of  ideas,  is  clear  from  the 
preceding  section.    It  must  therefore  be  a  substance ;  but  it  has 
been  shewn  that  there  is  no  corporeal  or  material  substance :  it  re- 
mains therefore  that  the  cause  of  ideas  is  an  incorporeal  active 
substance  or  Spirit. 

27.  A  Spirit  is  one  simple,  undivided,  active  being  —  as  it 
perceives  ideas  it  is  called  the  understanding,  and  as  it  produces 
or  otherwise  operates  about  them  it  is  called  the  will.    Hence 
there  can  be  no  idea  formed  of  a  soul  or  spirit;  for,  all  ideas 
whatever,  being  passive  and  inert  (vid.  sect.  25),  cannot  repre- 
sent unto  us,  by  way  of  image  or  likeness,  that  which  acts.   A 
little  attention  will  make  it  plain  to  any  one  that  to  have  an  idea 
which  shall  be  like  that  active  principle  of  motion  and  change 
of  ideas  is  absolutely  impossible.    Such  is  the  nature  of  Spirit, 
or  that  which  acts,  that  it  cannot  be  of  itself  perceived,  but  only 
by  the  effects  which  it  produceth.  If  any  man  shall  doubt  of  the 
truth  of  what  is  here  delivered,  let  him  but  reflect  and  try  if  he 
can  frame  the  idea  of  any  power  or  active  being;  and  whether  he 
has  ideas  of  two  principal  powers,  marked  by  the  names  will 
and  understanding,  distinct  from  each  other,  as  well  as  from  a 
third  idea  of  Substance  or  Being  in  general,  with  a  relative  notion 
of  its  supporting  or  being  the  subject  of  the  aforesaid  powers  — 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    275 

which  is  signified  by  the  name  soul  or  spirit.  This  is  what  some 
hold ;  but,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  the  words  will,  soul,  spirit,  do  not 
stand  for  different  ideas,  or,  in  truth,  for  any  idea  at  all,  but  for 
something  which  is  very  different  from  ideas,  and  which,  being 
an  agent,  cannot  be  like  unto,  or  represented  by,  any  idea  what- 
soever. Though  it  must  be  owned  at  the  same  time  that  we  have 
some  notion  of  soul,  spirit,  and  the  operations  of  the  mind; 
such  as  willing,  loving,  hating  —  inasmuch  as  we  know  or  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  these  words. 

28.  I  find  I  can  excite  ideas  in  my  mind  at  pleasure,  and  vary 
and  shift  the  scene  as  oft  as  I  think  fit.  It  is  no  more  than  willing, 
and  straightway  this  or  that  idea  arises  in  my  fancy;  and  by  the 
same  power  it  is  obliterated  and  makes  way  for  another.   This 
making  and  unmaking  of  ideas  doth  very  properly  denominate 
the  mind  active.   Thus  much  is  certain  and  grounded  on  ex- 
perience: but  when  we  talk  of  unthinking  agents  or  of  exciting 
ideas  exclusive  of  volition,  we  only  amuse  ourselves  with  words. 

29.  But,  whatever  power  I  may  have  over  my  own  thoughts, 
I  find  the  ideas  actually  perceived  by  Sense  have  not  a  like 
dependence  on  my  will.  When  in  broad  daylight  I  open  my  eyes, 
it  is  not  in  my  power  to  choose  whether  I  shall  see  or  no,  or  to 
determine  what  particular  objects  shall  present  themselves  to  my 
view;  and  so  likewise  as  to  the  hearing  and  other  senses;  the 
ideas  imprinted  on  them  are  not  creatures  of  my  will.    There  is 
therefore  some  other  Will  or  Spirit  that  produces  them. 

30.  The  ideas  of  Sense  are  more  strong,  lively,  and  distinct 
than  those  of  the  imagination;  they  have  likewise  a  steadiness, 
order,  and  coherence,  and  are  not  excited  at  random,  as  those 
which  are  the  effects  of  human  wills  often  are,  but  in  a  regular 
train  or  series  —  the  admirable  connexion  whereof  sufficiently 
testifies  the  wisdom  and  benevolence  of  its  Author.   Now  the  set 
rules  or  established  methods  wherein  the  Mind  we  depend  on 
excites  in  us  the  ideas  of  sense,  are  called  the  laws  of  nature; 
and  these  we  learn  by  experience,  which  teaches  us  that  such  and 
such  ideas  are  attended  with  such  and  such  other  ideas,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  things. 

31.  This  gives  us  a  sort  of  foresight  which  enables  us  to  regu- 


276  BERKELEY 

late  our  actions  for  the  benefit  of  life.  And  without  this  we  should 
be  eternally  at  a  loss;  we  could  not  know  how  to  act  anything  that 
might  procure  us  the  least  pleasure,  or  remove  the  least  pain  of 
sense.  That  food  nourishes,  sleep  refreshes,  and  fire  warms  us; 
that  to  sow  in  the  seed-time  is  the  way  to  reap  in  the  harvest ; 
and  in  general  that  to  obtain  such  or  such  ends,  such  or  such* 
means  are  conducive  —  all  this  we  know,  not  by  discovering 
any  necessary  connexion  between  our  ideas,  but  only  by  the 
observation  of  the  settled  laws  of  nature,  without  which  we 
should  be  all  in  uncertainty  and  confusion,  and  a  grown  man  no 
more  know  how  to  manage  himself  in  the  affairs  of  life  than  an 
infant  just  born. 

32.  And  yet  this  consistent  uniform  working,  which  so  evi- 
dently displays  the  goodness  and  wisdom  of  that  Governing 
Spirit  whose  Will  constitutes  the  laws  of  nature,  is  so  far  from 
leading  our  thoughts  to  Him,  that  it  rather  sends  them  wander- 
ing after  second  causes.   For,  when  we  perceive  certain  ideas  of 
Sense  constantly  followed  by  other  ideas,  and  we  know  this  is 
not  of  our  own  doing,  we  forthwith  attribute  power  and  agency 
to  the  ideas  themselves,  and  make  one  the  cause  of  another,  than 
which  nothing  can  be  more  absurd  and  unintelligible.  Thus,  for 
example,  having  observed  that  when  we  perceive  by  sight  a 
certain  round  luminous  figure  we  at  the  same  time  perceive  by 
touch  the  idea  or  sensation  called  heat,  we  do  from  thence  con- 
clude the  sun  to  be  the  cause  of  heat.  And  in  like  manner  per- 
ceiving the  motion  and  collision  of  bodies  to  be  attended  with 
sound,  we  are  inclined  to  think  the  latter  the  effect  of  the  former. 

33.  The  ideas  imprinted  on  the  Senses  by  the  Author  of  nature 
are  called  real  things :  and  those  excited  in  the  Imagination  being 
less  regular,  vivid,  and  constant,  are  more  properly  termed  ideas, 
or  images  of  things,  which  they  copy  and  represent.  But  then  our 
sensations,  be  they  never  so  vivid  and  distinct,  are  nevertheless 
ideas,  that  is,  they  exist  in  the  Blind,  or  are  perceived  by  it,  as 
truly  as  the  ideas  of  its  own  framing.   The  ideas  of  Sense  are 
allowed  to  have  more  reality  in  them,  that  is,  to  be  more  strong, 
orderly,  and  coherent  than  the  creatures  of  the  mind;  but  this 
is  no. argument  that  they  exist  without  the  mind.  They  are  also 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    277 

less  dependent  on  the  spirit,  or  thinking  substance  which  per- 
ceives them,  in  that  they  are  excited  by  the  will  of  another  and 
more  powerful  Spirit ;  yet  still  they  are  ideas,  and  certainly  no 
idea,  whether  faint  or  strong,  can  exist  otherwise  than  in  a  mind 
perceiving  it. 

34.  Before  we  proceed  any  farther  it  is  necessary  we  spend 
some  time  in  answering  Objections  which  may  probably  be 
made  against  the  principles  we  have  hitherto  laid  down.    In 
doing  of  which,  if  I  seem  too  prolix  to  those  of  quick  apprehen- 
sions, I  desire  I  may  be  excused,  since  all  men  do  not  equally 
apprehend  things  of  this  nature,  and  I  am  willing  to  be  under- 
stood by  every  one. 

First,  then,  it  will  be  objected  that  by  the  foregoing  principles 
all  that  is  real  and  substantial  in  nature  is  banished  out  of  the 
world,  and  instead  thereof  a  chimerical  scheme  of  ideas  takes 
place.  All  things  that  exist  exist  only  in  the  mind,  that  is,  they 
are  purely  notional.  What  therefore  becomes  of  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars?  What  must  we  think  of  houses,  rivers,  mountains, 
trees,  stones;  nay,  even  of  our  own  bodies?  Are  all  these  but  so 
many  chimeras  and  illusions  of  the  fancy  ?  To  all  of  which,  and 
whatever  else  of  the  same  sort  may  be  objected,  I  answer,  that 
by  the  Principles  premised  we  are  not  deprived  of  any  one  thing 
in  nature.  Whatever  we  see,  feel,  hear,  or  anywise  conceive  or 
understand,  remains  as  secure  as  ever,  and  is  as  real  as  ever. 
There  is  a  rerum  natura,  and  the  distinction  between  realities 
and  chimeras  retains  its  full  force.  This  is  evident  from  sect.  29, 
30,  and  33,  where  we  have  shewn  what  is  meant  by  real  things,  in 
opposition  to  chimeras  or  ideas  of  our  own  framing;  but  then 
they  both  equally  exist  in  the  mind,  and  in  that  sense  they  are 
alike  ideas. 

35.  I  do  not  argue  against  the  existence  of  any  one  thing  that 
we  can  apprehend  either  by  sense  or  reflexion.  That  the  things 
I  see  with  my  eyes  and  touch  with  my  hands  do  exist,  really 
exist,  I  make  not  the  least  question.    The  only  thing  whose 
existence  we  deny  is  that  which  philosophers  call  Matter  or 
corporeal  substance.   And  in  doing  of  this  there  is  no  damage 


278  BERKELEY 

done  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  who,  I  dare  say,  will  never  miss  it. 
The  Atheist  indeed  will  want  the  colour  of  an  empty  name  to 
support  his  impiety;  and  the  Philosophers  may  possibly  find 
they  have  lost  a  great  handle  for  trifling  and  disputation. 

37.  It  will  be  urged  that  thus  much  at  least  is  true,  to  wit, 
that  we  take  away  all  corporeal  substances.    To  this  my  answer 
is,  that  if  the  word  substance  be  taken  in  the  vulgar  sense,  for 
a  combination  of  sensible  qualities,  such  as  extension,  solidity, 
weight,  and  the  like  —  this  we  cannot  be  accused  of  taking 
away;  but  if  it  be  taken  in  a  philosophic  sense,  for  the  support 
of  accidents  or  qualities  without  the  mind  —  then  indeed  I 
acknowledge  that  we  take  it  away,  if  one  may  be  said  to  take 
away  that  which  never  had  any  existence,  not  even  in  the  imagi- 
nation. 

38.  But  after  all,  say  you,  it  sounds  very  harsh  to  say  we  eat 
and  drink  ideas,  and  are  clothed  with  ideas.   I  acknowledge  it 
does  so  —  the  word  idea  not  being  used  in  common  discourse 
to  signify  the  several  combinations  of  sensible  qualities  which 
are  called  things;  and  it  is  certain  that  any  expression  which 
varies  from  the  familiar  use  of  language  will  seem  harsh  and 
ridiculous.    But  this  doth  not  concern  the  truth  of  the  proposi- 
tion, which  in  other  words  is  no  more  than  to  say,  we  are  fed 
and  clothed  with  those  things  which  we  perceive  immediately 
by  our  senses.    The  hardness  or  softness,  the  colour,   taste, 
warmth,  figure,  or  suchlike  qualities,  which,  combined  together, 
constitute  the  several  sorts  of  victuals  and  apparel,  have  been 
shewn  to  exist  only  in  the  mind  that  perceives  them;  and  this  is 
all  that  is  meant  by  calling  them  ideas;  which  word  if  it  was 
as  ordinarily  used  as  thing,  would  sound  no  harsher  nor  more 
ridiculous  than  it.   I  am  not  for  disputing  about  the  propriety, 
but  the  truth  of  the  expression.   If  therefore  you  agree  with  me 
that  we  eat  and  drink  and  are  clad  with  the  immediate  objects 
of  sense,  which  cannot  exist  unperceived  or  without  the  mind,  I 
shall  readily  grant  it  is  more  proper  or  conformable  to  custom 
that  they  should  be  called  things  rather  than  ideas. 

39.  If  it  be  demanded  why  I  make  use  of  the  word  idea,  and 
do  not  rather  in  compliance  with  custom  call  them  things;  I 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    279 

answer,  I  do  it  for  two  reasons :  —  first,  because  the  term  thing, 
in  contradistinction  to  idea,  is  generally  supposed  to  denote 
somewhat  existing  without  the  mind;  secondly,  because  thing 
hath  a  more  comprehensive  signification  than  idea,  including 
spirit  or  thinking  things  as  well  as  ideas.  Since  therefore  the 
objects  of  sense  exist  only  in  the  mind,  and  are  withal  thoughtless 
and  inactive,  I  chose  to  mark  them  by  the  word  idea,  which 
implies  those  properties. 

41 .  Secondly,  it  will  be  objected  that  there  is  a  great  difference 
betwixt  real  fire  for  instance,  and  the  idea  of  fire,  betwixt  dream- 
ing or  imagining  oneself  burnt,  and  actually   being  so.     This 
and  the  like  may  be  urged  in  opposition  to  our  tenets.   To  all 
which  the  answer  is  evident  from  what  hath  been  already  said; 
and  I  shall  only  add  in  this  place,  that  if  real  fire  be  very  different 
from  the  idea  of  fire,  so  also  is  the  real  pain  that  it  occasions  very 
different  from  the  idea  of  the  same  pain,  and  yet  nobody  will 
pretend  that  real  pain  either  is,  or  can  possibly  be,  in  an  unper- 
ceiving  thing,  or  without  the  mind,  any  more  than  its  idea. 

42.  Thirdly,  it  will  be  objected  that  we  see  things  actually 
without  or  at  a  distance  from  us,  and  which  consequently  do  not 
exist  in  the  mind;  it  being  absurd  that  those  things  which  are 
seen  at  the  distance  of  several  miles  should  be  as  near  to  us  as 
our  own  thoughts.  In  answer  to  this,  I  desire  it  may  be  considered 
that  in  a  dream  we  do  oft  perceive  things  as  existing  at  a  great 
distance  off,  and  yet  for  all  that,  those  things  are  acknowledged 
to  have  their  existence  only  in  the  mind. 

43.  But,  for  the  fuller  clearing  of  this  point,  it  may  be  worth 
while  to  consider  how  it  is  that  we  perceive  distance  and  things 
placed  at  a  distance  by  sight.   For,  that  we  should  in  truth  see 
external  space,  and  bodies  actually  existing  in  it  —  some  nearer, 
others  farther  off,  seems  to  carry  with  it  some  opposition  to 
what  hath  been  said  of  their  existing  nowhere  without  the  mind. 
The  consideration  of  this  difficulty  it  was  that  gave  birth  to 
my  Essay  towards  a  New  Theory  0}  Vision,  which  was  pub- 
lished not  long  since,  wherein  it  is  shewn  that  distance  or  out- 


28o  BERKELEY 

ness  is  neither  immediately  of  itself  perceived  by  sight,  nor  yet 
apprehended  or  judged  of  by  lines  and  angles,  or  anything  that 
hath  a  necessary  connexion  with  it;  but  that  it  is  only  suggested 
to  our  thoughts  by  certain  visible  ideas  and  sensations  attending 
vision,  which  in  their  own  nature  have  no  manner  of  similitude 
or  relation  either  with  distance  or  things  placed  at  a  distance;  but 
by  a  connexion  taught  us  by  experience,  they  come  to  signify 
and  suggest  them  to  us,  after  the  same  manner"  that  words  of  any 
language  suggest  the  ideas  they  are  made  to  stand  for;  insomuch 
that  a  man  born  blind  and  afterwards  made  to  see,  would  not, 
at  first  sight,  think  the  things  he  saw  to  be  without  his  mind,  or 
at  any  distance  from  him.  See  sect.  41  of  the  forementioned 
treatise. 

45.  Fourthly,  it  will  be  objected  that  from  the  foregoing  prin- 
ciples it  follows  things  are  every  moment  annihilated  and  created 
anew.  The  objects  of  sense  exist  only  when  they  are  perceived; 
the  trees  therefore  are  in  the  garden,  or  the  chairs  in  the  parlour, 
no  longer  than  while  there  is  somebody  by  to  perceive  them. 
Upon  shutting  my  eyes  all  the  furniture  in  the  room  is  reduced 
to  nothing,  and  barely  upon  opening  them  it  is  again  created. 
In  answer  to  all  which,  I  refer  the  reader  to  what  has  been  said 
in  sect.  3,  4,  &c.,  and  desire  he  will  consider  whether  he  means 
anything  by  the  actual  existence  of  an  idea  distinct  from  its 
being  perceived.  For  my  part,  after  the  nicest  inquiry  I  could 
make,  I  am  not  able  to  discover  that  anything  else  is  meant  by 
those  words;  and  I  once  more  entreat  the  reader  to  sound  his 
own  thoughts,  and  not  suffer  himself  to  be  imposed  on  by  words. 
If  he  can  conceive  it  possible  either  for  his  ideas  or  their  arche- 
types to  exist  without  being  perceived,  then  I  give  up  the  cause ; 
but  if  he  cannot,  he  will  acknowledge  it  is  unreasonable  for  him 
to  stand  up  in  defence  of  he  knows  not  what,  and  pretend  to 
charge  on  me  as  an  absurdity  the  not  assenting  to  those  propo- 
sitions which  at  bottom  have  no  meaning  in  them. 

48.  But,  after  all,  if  we  consider  it,  the  objection  proposed  in 
sect.  45  will  not  be  found  reasonably  charged  on  the  principles 
we  have  premised,  so  as  in  truth  to  make  any  objection  at  all 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    281 

against  our  notions.  For,  though  we  hold  indeed  the  objects 
of  sense  to  be  nothing  else  but  ideas  which  cannot  exist  unper- 
ceived ;  yet  we  may  not  hence  conclude  they  have  no  existence 
except  only  while  they  are  perceived  by  us,  since  there  may  be 
some  other  spirit  that  perceives  them  though  we  do  not.  Wher- 
ever bodies  are  said  to  have  no  existence  without  the  mind,  I 
would  not  be  understood  to  mean  this  or  that  particular  mind, 
but  all  minds  whatsoever.  It  does  not  therefore  follow  from 
the  foregoing  Principles  that  bodies  are  annihilated  and  created 
every  moment,  or  exist  not  at  all  during  the  intervals  between  our 
perception  of  them. 

49.  Fifthly,  it  may  perhaps  be  objected  that  if  extension  and 
figure  exist  only  in  the  mind,  it  follows  that  the  mind  is  extended 
and  figured;  since  extension  is  a  mode  or  attribute  which  (to 
speak  with  the  schools)  is  predicated  of  the  subject  in  which  it 
exists.  I  answer,  those  qualities  are  in  the  mind  only  as  they  are 
perceived  by  it  —  that  is,  not  by  way  of  mode  or  attribute,  but 
only  by  way  of  idea;  and  it  no  more  follows  the  soul  or  mind  is 
extended,  because  extension  exists  in  it  alone,  than  it  does  that 
it  is  red  or  blue,  because  those  colours  are  on  all  hands  acknow- 
ledged to  exist  in  it,  and  nowhere  else.  .  .  . 

50.  Sixthly,  you  will  say  there  have  been  a  great  many  things 
explained  by  matter  and  motion ;  take  away  these  and  you  destroy 
the  whole  corpuscular  philosophy,  and  undermine  those  mechani- 
cal principles  which  have  been  applied  with  so  much  success  to 
account  for  the  phenomena.    In  short,  whatever  advances  have 
been  made,  either  by  ancient  or  modern  philosophers,  in  the 
study  of  nature  do  all  proceed  on  the  supposition  that  corporeal 
substance  or  Matter  doth  really  exist.    To  this  I  answer  that 
there  is  not  any  one  phenomenon  explained  on  that  supposition 
which  may  not  as  well  be  explained  without  it,  as  might  easily  be 
made  appear  by  an  induction  of  particulars.    To  explain  the 
phenomena,  is  all  one>  as  to  shew  why,  upon  such  and  such 
occasions,  we  are  affected  with  such  and  such  ideas.   But  how 
Matter  should  operate  on  a  Spirit,  or  produce  any  idea  in  it,  is 


28z  BERKELEY 

i 

what  no  philosopher  will  pretend  to  explain;  it  is  therefore 
evident  there  can  be  no  use  of  Matter  in  natural  philosophy. 
Besides,  they  who  attempt  to  account  for  things  do  it  not  by 
corporeal  substance,  but  by  figure,  motion,  and  other  qualities, 
which  are  in  truth  no  more  than  mere  ideas,  and  therefore 
cannot  be  the  cause  of  anything,  as  hath  been  already  shewn.  See 
sect.  25. 

51.  Seventhly,  it  will  upon  this  be  demanded  whether  it  does 
not  seem  absurd  to  take  away  natural  causes,  and  ascribe 
everything  to  the  immediate  operation  of  Spirits  ?  We  must  no 
longer  say  upon  these  principles  that  fire  heats,  or  water  cools, 
but  that  a  Spirit  heats,  and  so  forth.  Would  not  a  man  be  deserv- 
edly laughed  at,  who  should  talk  after  this  manner  ?  I  answer,  he 
would  so;in  such  things  we  ought  to  "think  with  the  learned,  and 
speak  with  the  vulgar."  They  who  to  demonstration  are  con- 
vinced of  the  truth  of  the  Copernican  system  do  nevertheless 
say  "the  sun  rises,"  "the  sun  sets,"  or  "comes  to  the  meridian;" 
and  if  they  affected  a  contrary  style  in  common  talk  it  would 
without  doubt  appear  very  ridiculous.  A  little  reflexion  on  what 
is  here  said  will  make  it  manifest  that  the  common  use  of  lan- 
guage would  receive  no  manner  of  alteration  or  disturbance  from 
the  admission  of  our  tenets. 

54.  In  the  eighth  place,  the  universal  concurrent  assent  of 
mankind  may  be  thought  by  some  an  invincible  argument  in 
behalf  of  Matter,  or  the  existence  of  external  things.  Must  we 
suppose  the  whole  world  to  be  mistaken  ?  And  if  so,  what  cause 
can  be  assigned  of  so  widespread  and  predominant  an  error  ?  I 
answer,  first,  that,  upon  a  narrow  inquiry,  it  will  not  perhaps  be 
found  so  many  as  is  imagined  do  really  believe  the  existence  of 
Matter  or  things  without  the  mind.  Strictly  speaking,  to  believe 
that  which  involves  a  contradiction,  or  has  no  meaning  in  it,  is 
impossible;  and  whether  the  foregoing  expressions  are  not  of 
that  sort,  I  refer  it  to  the  impartial  examination  of  the  reader. 
In  one  sense,  indeed,  men  may  be  said  to  believe  that  Matter 
exists;  that  is,  they  act  as  if  the  immediate  cause  of  their  sensa- 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    283 

tions,  which  affects  them  every  moment,  and  is  so  nearly  present 
to  them,  were  some  senseless  unthinking  being.  But,  that  they 
should  clearly  apprehend  any  meaning  marked  by  those  words, 
and  form  thereof  a  settled  speculative  opinion,  is  what  I  am  not 
able  to  conceive. 

55.  But  secondly,  though  we  should  grant  a  notion  to  be 
never  so  universally  and  steadfastly  adhered  to,  yet  this  is  weak 
argument  of  its  truth  to  whoever  considers  what  a  vast  number 
of  prejudices  and  false  opinions  are  everywhere  embraced  with 
the  utmost  tenaciousness,  by  the  unreflecting  (which  are  the  far 
greater)  part  of  mankind.  There  was  a  time  when  the  antipodes 
and  motion  of  the  earth  were  looked  upon  as  monstrous  absur- 
dities even  by  men  of  learning :  and  if  it  be  considered  what  a 
small  proportion  they  bear  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  we  shall  find 
that  at  this  day  those  notions  have  gained  but  a  very  inconsider- 
able footing  in  the  world. 

56.  But  it  is  demanded  that  we  assign  a  cause  of  this  preju- 
dice, and  account  for  its  obtaining  in  the  world.   To  this  I  an- 
swer, that  men  knowing  they  perceived  several  ideas,  whereof 
they  themselves  were  not  the  authors  —  as  not  being  excited 
from  within  nor  depending  on  the  operation  of  their  wills  — 
this  made  them  maintain  those  ideas,  or  objects  of  perception 
had  an  existence  independent  of  and  without  the  mind,  without 
ever  dreaming  that  a  contradiction  was  involved  in  those  words. 
But,  philosophers  having  plainly  seen  that  the  immediate  objects 
of  perception  do  not  exist  without  the  mind,  they  in  some  degree 
corrected  the  mistake  of  the  vulgar;  but  at  the  same  time  ran 
into  another  which  seems  no  less  absurd,  to  wit,  that  there  are 
certain  objects  really  existing  without  the  mind,  or  having  a 
subsistence  distinct  from  being  perceived,  of  which  our  ideas 
are  only  images  or  resemblances,  imprinted  by  those  objects 
on  the  mind.  And  this  notion  of  the  philosophers  owes  its  origin 
to  the  same  cause  with  the  former,  namely,  their  being  conscious 
that  they  were  not  the  authors  of  their  own  sensations,  which 
they  evidently  knew  were  imprinted  from  without,  and  which 


284  BERKELEY 

therefore  must  have  some  cause  distinct  from  the  minds  on 
which  they  are  imprinted. 

58.  Tenthly,  it  will  be  objected  that  the  notions  we  advance 
are  inconsistent  with  several  sound  truths  in  philosophy  and 
mathematics.  For  example,  the  motion  of  the  earth  is  now  uni- 
versally admitted  by  astronomers  as  a  truth  grounded  on  the 
clearest  and  most  convincing  reasons.  But,  on  the  foregoing 
principles,  there  can  be  no  such  thing.  For  motion  being  only 
an  idea,  it  follows  that  if  it  be  not  perceived  it  exists  not;  but 
the  motion  of  the  earth  is  not  perceived  by  senses  I  answer, 
that  tenet,  if  rightly  understood,  will  be  found  to  agree  with  the 
principles  we  have  premised ;  for,  the  question  whether  the  earth 
moves  or  no  amounts  in  reality  to  no  more  than  this,  to  wit, 
whether  we  have  reason  to  conclude,  from  what  has  been  ob- 
served by  astronomers,  that  if  we  were  placed  in  such  and  such 
circumstances,  and  such  or  such  a  position  and  distance  both 
from  the  earth  and  sun,  we  should  perceive  the  former  to  move 
among  the  choir  of  the  planets,  and  appearing  in  all  respects 
like  one  of  them;  and  this,  by  the  established  rules  of  nature 
which  we  have  no  reason  to  mistrust,  is  reasonably  collected  from 
the  phenomena. 

60.  In  the  eleventh  place,  it  will  be  demanded  to  what  pur- 
pose serves  that  curious  organization  of  plants,  and  the  animal 
mechanism  in  the  parts  of  animals.  Might  not  vegetables  grow, 
and  shoot  forth  leaves  and  blossoms,  and  animals  perform  all  their 
motions  as  well  without  as  with  all  that  variety  of  internal  parts 
so  elegantly  contrived  and  put  together;  which,  being  ideas,  have 
nothing  powerful  or  operative  in  them,  nor  have  any  necessary 
connexion  with  the  effects  ascribed  to  them  ?  If  it  be  a  Spirit  that 
immediately  produces  every  effect  by  a  fiat  or  act  of  his  will,  we 
must  think  all  that  is  fine  and  artificial  in  the  works,  whether5, 
of  man  or  nature,  to  be  made  in  vain.  By  this  doctrine,  though 
an  artist  has  made  the  spring  and  wheels,  and  every  movement 
of  a  watch,  and  adjusted  them  in  such  a  manner  as  he  knew 
would  produce  the  motions  he  designed,  yet  he  must  think  all 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    285 

this  done  to  no  purpose,  and  that  it  is  an  Intelligence  which 
directs  the  index,  and  points  to  the  hour  of  the  day.  If  so,  why 
may  not  the  Intelligence  do  it,  without  his  being  at  the  pains  of 
making  the  movements  and  putting  them  together?  Why  does 
not  an  empty  case  serve  as  well  as  another  ?  And  how  comes  it 
to  pass  that  whenever  there  is  any  fault  in  the  going  of  a  watch, 
there  is  some  corresponding  disorder  to  be  found  in  the  move- 
ments, which  being  mended  by  a  skilful  hand  all  is  right  again  ? 
The  like  may  be  said  of  all  the  clockwork  of  nature,  great  part 
whereof  is  so  wonderfully  fine  and  subtle  as  scarce  to  be  discerned 
by  the  best  microscope.  In  short,  it  will  be  asked,  how,  upon  our 
Principles,  any  tolerable  account  can  be  given,  or  any  final  cause 
assigned  of  an  innumerable  multitude  of  bodies  and  machines, 
framed  with  the  most  exquisite  art,  which  in  the  common  philoso- 
phy have  very  apposite  uses  assigned  them,  and  serve  to  explain 
abundance  of  phenomena  ? 

61.  To  all  which  I  answer,  first,  that  though  there  were  some 
difficulties  relating  to  the  administration  of  Providence,  and  the 
uses  by  it  assigned  to  the  several  parts  of  nature,  which  I  could 
not  solve  by  the  foregoing  principles,  yet  this  objection  could  be 
of  small  weight  against  the  truth  and  certainty  of  those  things 
which  may  be  proved  a  priori,  with  the  utmost  evidence  and  rigor 
of  demonstration.  Secondly,  but  neither  are  the  received  prin- 
ciples free  from  the  like  difficulties;  for,  it  may  still  be  demanded 
to  what  end  God  should  take  those  roundabout  methods  of  ef- 
fecting things  by  instruments  and  machines,  which  no  one  can 
deny  might  have  been  effected  by  the  mere  command  of  His 
will  without  all  that  apparatus.  Nay,  if  we  narrowly  consider 
it,  we  shall  find  the  objection  may  be  retorted  with  greater  force 
on  those  who  hold  the  existence  of  those  machines  without  the 
mind;  for  it  has  been  made  evident  that  solidity,  bulk,  figure, 
motion,  and  the  like  have  no  activity  or  efficacy  in  them,  so  as 
to  be  capable  of  producing  any  one  effect  in  nature.  See  sect. 
25.  Whoever  therefore  supposes  them  to  exist  (allowing  the 
supposition  possible)  when  they  are  not  perceived  does  it  man- 
ifestly to  no  purpose;  since  the  only  use  that  is  assigned  to 
them,  as  they  exist  unperceived,  is  that  they  produce  those  per- 


286  BERKELEY 

ceivable  effects  which  in  truth  cannot  be  ascribed  to  anything  but 
Spirit. 

62.  But,  to  come  nigher  the  difficulty,  it  must  be  observed 
that  though  the  fabrication  of  all  those  parts  and  organs  be  not 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  producing  any  effect,  yet  it  is  neces- 
sary to  the  producing  of  things  in  a  constant  regular  way  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  nature.  There  are  certain  general  laws  that  run 
through  the  whole  chain  of  natural  effects:  these  are  learned 
by  the  observation  and  study  of  nature,  and  are  by  men  applied 
as  well  to  the  framing  artificial  things  for  the  use  and  ornament 
of  life  as  to  the  explaining  various  phenomena  —  which  expli- 
cation consists  only  in  shewing  the  conformity  any  particular 
phenomenon  hath  to  the  general  laws  of  nature,  or,  which  is  the 
same  thing,  in  discovering  the  uniformity  there  is  in  the  produc- 
tion of  natural  effects ;  as  will  be  evident  to  whoever  shall  attend 
to  the  several  instances  wherein  philosophers  pretend  to  account 
for  appearances.  That  there  is  a  great  and  conspicuous  use 
in  these  regular  constant  methods  of  working  observed  by  the 
Supreme  Agent  hath  been  shewn  in  sect.  31.  And  it  is  no  less 
visible  that  a  particular  size,  figure,  motion,  and  disposition  of 
parts  are  necessary,  though  not  absolutely  to  the  producing  any 
effect,  yet  to  the  producing  it  according  to  the  standing  mechani- 
cal laws  of  nature.  Thus,  for  instance,  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
God,  or  the  Intelligence  that  sustains  and  rules  the  ordinary 
course  of  things,  might,  if  He  were  minded  to  produce  a  miracle, 
cause  all  the  motions  on  the  dial-plate  of  a  watch,  though  nobody 
had  ever  made  the  movements  and  put  them  in  it.  But  yet,  if 
He  will  act  agreeably  to  the  rules  of  mechanism,  by  Him  for  wise 
ends  established  and  maintained  in  the  creation,  it  is  necessary 
that  those  actions  of  the  watchmaker,  whereby  he  makes  the 
movements  and  rightly  adjusts  them,  precede  the  production  of 
the  aforesaid  motions;  as  also  that  any  disorder  in  them  be 
attended  with  the  perception  of  some  corresponding  disorder  in 
the  movements,  which  being  once  corrected  all  is  right  again.  .  .  . 

67.  In  the  twelfth  place,  it  may  perhaps  be  objected  that  — 
though  it  be  clear  from  what  has  been  said  that  there  can  be 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    287 

no  such  thing  as  an  inert,  senseless,  extended,  solid,  figured, 
movable  substance  existing  without  the  mind,  such  as  philoso- 
phers describe  Matter;  yet,  if  any  man  shall  leave  out  of  his 
idea  of  Matter  the  positive  ideas  of  extension,  figure,  solidity, 
and  motion,  and  say  that  he  means  only  by  that  word  an  inert, 
senseless  substance,  that  exists  without  the  mind  or  unperceived, 
which  is  the  occasion  of  our  ideas,  or  at  the  presence  whereof 
God  is  pleased  to  excite  ideas  in  us  —  it  doth  not  appear  but 
that  Matter  taken  in  this  sense  may  possibly  exist.  In  answer  to 
which  I  say,  first,  that  it  seems  no  less  absurd  to  suppose  a  sub- 
stance without  accidents,  than  it  is  to  suppose  accidents  without 
a  substance.  But  secondly,  though  we  should  grant  this  unknown 
substance  may  possibly  exist,  yet  where  can  it  be  supposed  to  be  ? 
That  it  exists  not  in  the  mind  is  agreed;  and  that  it  exists  not  in 
place  is  no  less  certain  —  since  all  place  or  extension  exists  only 
in  the  mind,  as  hath  been  already  proved.  It  remains  therefore 
that  it  exists  nowhere  at  all. 

70.  You  will  perhaps  say  that  Matter,  though  it  be  not  per- 
ceived by  us,  is  nevertheless  perceived  by  God,  to  whom  it  is 
the  occasion  of  exciting  ideas  in  our  minds.   For,  say  you,  since 
we  observe  our  sensations  to  be  imprinted  in  an  orderly  and  con- 
stant manner,  it  is  but  reasonable  to  suppose  that  there  are  cer- 
tain constant  and  regular  occasions  of  their  being  produced.  That 
is  to  say,  that  there  are  certain  permanent  and  distinct  parcels 
of  Matter,  corresponding  to  our  ideas,  which,  though  they  do  not 
excite  them  in  our  minds,  or  anywise  immediately  affect  us,  as 
being  altogether  passive  and  unperceivable  to  us,  they  are  never- 
theless to  God,  by  whom  they  are  perceived,  as  it  were  so  many 
occasions  to  remind  Him  when  and  what  ideas  to  imprint  on  our 
minds  —  that  so  things  may  go  on  in  a  constant  uniform  manner. 

71.  In  answer  to  this,  I  observe  that,  as  the  notion  of  Matter 
is  here  stated,  the  question  is  no  longer  concerning  the  existence 
of  a  thing  distinct  from  Spirit  and  idea,  from  perceiving  and  being 
perceived ;  but  whether  there  are  not  certain  ideas  of  I  know  not 
what  sort,  in  the  mind  of  God,  which  are  so  many  marks  or  notes 
that  direct  Him  how  to  produce  sensations  in  our  minds  in  a 
constant  and  regular  method  —  much  after  the  same  manner 


288  BERKELEY 

as  a  musician  is  directed  by  the  notes  of  music  to  produce  that 
harmonious  strain  and  composition  of  sound  which  is  called  a 
tune,  though  they  who  hear  the  music  do  not  perceive  the  notes, 
and  may  be  entirely  ignorant  of  them.  But,  this  notion  of  Matter 
seems  too  extravagant  to  deserve  a  confutation.  Besides,  it  is 
in  effect  no  objection  against  what  we  have  advanced,  viz.  that 
there  is  no  senseless  unperceived  substance. 

72.  If  we  follow  the  light  of  reason,  we  shall,  from  the  constant 
uniform  method  of  our  sensations,  collect  the  goodness  and  wis- 
dom of  the  Spirit  who  excites  them  in  our  minds;  but  this  is  all 
that  I  can  see  reasonably  concluded  from  thence.  To  me,  I  say, 
it  is  evident  that  the  being  of  a  Spirit  infinitely  wise,  good,  and 
powerful  is  abundantly  sufficient  to  explain  all  the  appearances 
of  nature.  But,  as  for  inert,  senseless  Matter,  nothing  that  I  per- 
ceive has  any  the  least  connexion  with  it,  or  leads  to  the  thoughts 
of  it.   And  I. would  fain  see  any  one  explain  any  the  meanest 
phenomenon  in  nature  by  it,  or  shew  any  manner  of  reason, 
though  in  the  lowest  rank  of  probability,  that  he  can  have  for  its 
existence,  or  even  make  any  tolerable  sense  or  meaning  of  that 
supposition.   For,  as  to  its  being  an  occasion,*  we  have,  I  think, 
evidently  shewn  that  with  regard  to  us  it  is  no  occasion.   It  re- 
mains therefore  that  it  must  be,  if  at  all,  the  occasion  to  God  of 
exciting  ideas  in  us;  and  what  this  amounts  to  we  have  just  now 
seen. 

73.  It  is  worth  while  to  reflect  a  little  on  the  motives  which 
induced  men  to  suppose  the  existence  of  material  substance;  that 
so  having  observed  the  gradual  ceasing  and  expiration  of  those 
motives  or  reasons,  we  may  proportionably  withdraw  the  assent 
that  was  grounded  on  them.  First,  therefore,  it  was  thought  that 
colour,  figure,  motion,  and  the  rest  of  the  sensible  qualities  or 
accidents,  did  really  exist  without  the  mind;  and  for  this  reason 
it  seemed  needful  to  suppose  some  unthinking  substratum  or 
substance  wherein  they  did  exist,  since  they  could  not  be  con- 
ceived to  exist  by  themselves.    Afterwards,  in  process  of  time, 
men  being  convinced  that  colours,  sounds,  and  the  rest  of  the 
sensible,  secondary  qualities  had  no  existence  without  the  mind, 
they  stripped  this  substratum  or  material  substance  of  those 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    289 

qualities,  leaving  only  the  primary  ones,  figure,  motion,  and  such- 
like, which  they  still  conceived  to  exist  without  the  mind,  and 
consequently  to  stand  in  need  of  a  material  support.  But,  it  hav- 
ing been  shewn  that  none  even  of  these  can  possibly  exist  other- 
wise than  in  a  Spirit  er  Mind  which  perceives  them,  it  follows 
that  we  have  no  longer  any  reason  to  suppose  the  being  of 
Matter;  nay,  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  there  should  be  any 
such  thing,  so  long  as  that  word  is  taken  to  denote  an  unthinking 
substratum  of  qualities  or  accidents  wherein  they  exist  without 
the  mind. 

85.  Having  done  with  the  Objections,  which  I  endeavoured 
to  propose  in  the  clearest  light,  and  gave  them  all  the  force  and 
weight  I  could,  we  proceed  in  the  next  place  to  take  a  view  of  our 
tenets  in  their  Consequences.  Some  of  these  appear  at  first  sight 
—  as  that  several  difficult  and  obscure  questions,  on  which  abun- 
dance of  speculation  has  been  thrown  away,  are  entirely  banished 
from  philosophy.    ''Whether  corporeal  substance  can  think," 
"whether  Matter  be  infinitely  divisible,"  and  "how  it  operates 
on  spirit"  —  these  and  the  like  inquiries  have  given  infinite 
amusement  to  philosophers  in  all  ages;  but,  depending  on  the 
existence   of   Matter,  they  have  no  longer  any  place  in  our 
principles.    Many  other  advantages  there  are,  as  well  with  re- 
gard to  religion  as  the  sciences,  which  it  is  easy  for  any  one  to 
deduce  from  what  has   been  premised;    but   this  will   appear 
more  plainly  in  the  sequel. 

86.  From  the  Principles  we  have  laid  down  it  follows  Human 
Knowledge  may  naturally  be  reduced  to  two  heads  —  that  of 
ideas  and  that  of  spirits.  Of  each  of  these  I  shall  treat  in  order. 

And  first  as  to  ideas  or  unthinking  things.  Our  knowledge 
of  these  has  been  very  much  obscured  and  confounded,  and 
we  have  been  led  into  very  dangerous  errors,  by  supposing  a 
two-fold  existence  of  the  objects  of  sense  —  the  one  intelligible 
or  in  the  mind;  the  other  real  and  without  the  mind;  whereby 
unthinking  things  are  thought  to  have  a  natural  subsistence  of 
their  own,  distinct  from  being  perceived  by  spirits.  This,  which, 


ago  BERKELEY 

if  I  mistake  not,  hath  been  shewn  to  be  a  most  groundless  and 
absurd  notion,  is  the  very  root  of  Scepticism ;  for,  so  long  as  men 
thought  that  real  things  subsisted  without  the  mind,  and  that 
their  knowledge  was  only  so  far  forth  real  as  it  was  conformable 
to  real  things,  it  follows  they  could  not  be  certain  that  they  had 
any  real  knowledge  at  all.  For,  how  can  it  be  known  that  the 
things  which  are  perceived  are  conformable  to  those  which  are 
not  perceived,  or  exist  without  the  mind  ? 

87,  Colour,  figure,  motion,  extension,  and  the  like,  considered 
only  as  so  many  sensations  in  the  mind,  are  perfectly  known, 
there  being  nothing  in  them  which  is  not  perceived.    But,  if 
they  are  looked  on  as  notes  or  images,  referred  to  things  or  arche- 
types existing  without .  the  mind,  then  are  we  involved  all  in 
scepticism.  We  see  only  the  appearances,  and  not  the  real  quali- 
ties of  things.   What  may  be  the  extension,  figure,  or  motion  of 
anything  really  and  absolutely,  or  in  itself,  it  is  impossible  for 
us  to  know,  but  only  the  proportion  or  relation  they  bear  to  our 
senses.   Things  remaining  the  same,  our  ideas  vary,  and  which 
of  them,  or  even  whether  any  of  them  at  all,  represent  the  true 
quality  really  existing  in  the  thing,  it  is  out  of  our  reach  to  deter- 
mine. So  that,  for  aught  we  know,  all  we  see,  hear,  and  feel,  may 
be  only  phantom  and  vain  chimera,  and  not  at  all  agree  with  the 
real  things  existing  in  rerum  natura.   All  this  sceptical  cant  folj 
lows  from  our  supposing  a  difference  between  things  and  ideas, 
and  that  the  former  have  a  subsistence  without  the  mind  or  un- 
perceived.    It  were  easy  to  dilate  on  this  subject,  and  shew  how 
the  arguments  urged  by  sceptics  in  all  ages  depend  on  the  sup- 
position of  external  objects. 

88.  So  long  as  we  attribute  a  real  existence  to  unthinking 
things,  distinct  from  their  being  perceived,  it  is  not  only  impos- 
sible for  us  to  know  with  evidence  the  nature  of  any  real  unthink- 
ing being,  but  even  that  it  exists.  Hence  it  is  that  we  see  philoso- 
phers distrust  their  senses,  and  doubt  of  the  existence  of  heaven 
and  earth,  of  everything  they  see  or  feel,  even  of  their  own  bodies. 
And,  after  all  their  labouring  and  struggle  of  thought,  they  are 
forced  to  own  we  cannot  attain  to  any  self-evident  or  demonstra- 
tive knowledge  of  the  existence  of  sensible  things.   But,  all  this 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    291 

doubtfulness,  which  so  bewilders  and  confounds  the  mind  and 
makes  philosophy  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  vanishes 
if  <we  annex  a  meaning  to  our  words,  and  not  amuse  ourselves 
with  the  terms  absolute,  external,  exist,  and  such  like  —  signifying 
we  know  not  what.  I  can  as  well  doubt  of  my  own  being  as  of 
the  being  of  those  things  which  I  actually  perceive  by  sense; 
it  being  a  manifest  contradiction  that  any  sensible  object  should 
be  immediately  perceived  by  sight  or  touch,  and  at  the  same 
time  have  no  existence  in  nature,  since  the  very  existence  of  an 
unthinking  being  consists  in  being  perceived. 

89.  Nothing  seems  of   more   importance  towards  erecting  a 
firm  system  of  sound  and  real  knowledge,  which  may  be  proof 
against  the  assaults  of  Scepticism,  than  to  lay  the  beginning  in  a 
distinct  explication  of  what  is  meant  by  thing,  reality,  existence; 
for  in  vain  shall  we  dispute  concerning  the  real  existence  of 
things,  or  pretend  to  any  knowledge  thereof,  so  long  as  we  have 
not  fixed  the  meaning  of  those  words.    Thing  or  being  is  the 
most  general  name  of.  all;  it  comprehends  under  it  two  kinds 
entirely  distinct  and  heterogeneous,  and  which  have  nothing 
common  but  the  name,  viz.  spirits  and  ideas.   The  former  are 
active,  indivisible  substances:  the  latter  are  inert,  fleeting,  or 
dependent  beings,  which  subsist  not  by  themselves,  but  are  sup- 
ported by,  or  exist  in  minds  or  spiritual  substances.   We  com- 
prehend our  own  existence  by  inward  feeling  or  reflexion,  and 
that  of  other  spirits  by  reason.   We  may  be  said  to  have  some 
knowledge  or  notion  of  our  own  minds,  of  spirits  and  active 
beings,  whereof  in  a  strict  sense  we  have  not  ideas.  In  like  man- 
ner, we  know  and  have  a  notion  of  relations  between  things 
or  ideas  —  which  relations  are  distinct  from  the  ideas  or  things 
related,  inasmuch  as  the  latter  may  be  perceived  by  us  without 
our  perceiving  the  former.    To  me  it  seems  that  ideas,  spirits, 
and  relations  are  all,  in  their  respective  kinds,  the  object  of  human 
knowledge  and  subject  of  discourse,  and  that  the  term  idea  would 
be  improperly  extended  to  signify  everything  we  know  or  have 
any  notion  of. 

90.  Ideas  imprinted  on  the  senses  are  real  things,  or  do  really 
exist :  this  we  do  not  deny,  but  we  deny  they  can  subsist  without 


292  BERKELEY 

\  the  minds  which  perceive  them,  or  that  they  are  resemblances 
of  any  archetypes  existing  without  the  mind ;  since  the  very  being 
of  a  sensation  or  idea  consists  in  being  perceived,  and  an  idea 
can  be  like  nothing  but  an  idea.  Again,  the  things  perceived  by 
sense  may  be  termed  external,  with  regard  to  their  origin,  in 
that  they  are  not  generated  from  within  by  the  mind  itself,  but 
imprinted  by  a  Spirit  distinct  from  that  which  perceives  them. 
Sensible  objects  may  likewise  be  said  to  be  "without  the  mind" 
in  another  sense,  namely  when  they  exist  in  some  other  mind; 
thus,  when  I  shut  my  eyes,  the  things  I*  saw  may  still  exist,  but  it 
must  be  in  another  mind. 

91.  It  were  a  mistake  to  think  that  what  is  here  said  derogates 
in  the  least  from  the  reality  of  things.  It  is  acknowledged,  on  the 
received  principles,  that  extension,  motion,  and  in  a  word  all 
sensible  qualities,  have  need  of  a  support,  as  not  being  able  to 
subsist  by  themselves.    But  the  objects  perceived  by  sense  are 
allowed  to  be  nothing  but  combinations  of  those  qualities,  and 
consequently  cannot  subsist  by  themselves.  Thus  far  it  is  agreed 
on  all  hands.  So  that  in  denying  the  things  perceived  by  sense  an 
existence  independent  of  a  substance  of  support  wherein  they 
may  exist,  we  detract  nothing  from  the  received  opinion  of  their 
reality,  and  are  guilty  of  no  innovation  in  that  respect.  All  the 
difference  is  that,  according  to  us,  the  unthinking  beings  per- 
ceived by  sense  have  no  existence  distinct  from  being  perceived, 
and  cannot  therefore  exist  in  any  other  substance  than  those 
unextended  indivisible  substances  or  Spirits  which  act  and  think 
and  perceive  them;  whereas  philosophers  vulgarly  hold  the  sen- 
sible qualities  do  exist  in  an  inert,  extended,  unperceiving  sub- 
stance which  they  call  Matter,  to  which  they  attribute  a  natural 
subsistence,  exterior  to  all  thinking  beings,  or  distinct  from  being 
perceived  by  any.  mind  whatsoever,  even  the  eternal  mind  of  the 
Creator,  wherein  they  suppose  only  ideas  of  the  corporeal  sub- 
stances created  by  Him :  if  indeed  they  allow  them  to  be  at  all 
created. 

92.  For,  as  we  have  shewn  the  doctrine  of  Matter  or  corporeal 
substance  to  have  been  the  main  pillar  and  support  of  Scepticism^ 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    293 

so  likewise  upon  the  same  foundation  have  been  raised  all  the 
impious  schemes  of  Atheism  and  Irreligion.  Nay,  so  great  a 
difficulty  has  it  been  thought  to  conceive  Matter  produced  out 
of  nothing,  that  the  most  celebrated  among  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers, even  of  those  who  maintained  the  being  of  a  God,  have 
thought  Matter  to  be  uncreated  and  coeternal  with  Him.  How 
great  a  friend  material  substance  has  been  to  Atheists  in  all  ages 
were  needless  to  relate.  All  their  monstrous  systems  have  so 
visible  and  necessary  a  dependence  on  it  that,  when  this  corner- 
stone is  once  removed,  the  whole  fabric  cannot  choose  but  fall 
to  the  ground,  insomuch  that  it  is  no  longer  worth  while  to 
bestow  a  particular  consideration  on  the  absurdities  of  every 
wretched  sect  of  Atheists. 

93.  That  impious  and  profane  persons  should  readily  fall  in 
with  those  systems  which  favour  their  inclinations,  by  deriding 
immaterial  substance,  and  supposing  the  soul  to  be  divisible  and 
subject  to  corruption  as  the  body;  which  exclude  all  freedom, 
intelligence,  and  design  from  the  formation  of  things,  and  instead 
thereof  make  a  self-existent,  stupid,  unthinking  substance  the 
root  and  origin  of  all  beings;  that  they  should  hearken  to  those 
who  deny  a  Providence,  or  inspection  of  a  Superior  Mind  over 
the  affairs  of  the  world,  attributing  the  whole  series  of  events 
either  to  blind  chance  or  fatal  necessity  arising  from  the  impulse 
of  one  body  on  another  —  all  this  is  very  natural.   And,  on  the 
other  hand,  when  men  of  better  principles  observe  the  enemies 
of  religion  lay  so  great  a  stress  on  unthinking  Matter,  and  all 
of  them  use  so  much  industry  and  artifice  to  reduce  everything 
to  it^methinks  they  should  rejoice  to  see  them  deprived  of  their 
grand  support,  and  driven  from  that  only  fortress,  without  which 
your  Epicureans,  Hobbists,  and  the  like,  have  not  even  the 
shadow  of  a  pretence,  and  become  the  most  cheap  and  easy 
triumph  in  the  world. 

94.  The  existence  of  Matter,  or  bodies  unperceived,  has  not 
only  been  the  main  support  of  Atheists  and  Fatalists,  but  on  the 
same  principle  doth  Idolatry  likewise  in  all  its  various  forms 
depend.    Did  men  but  consider  that  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars, 
and  every  other  object  of  the  senses,  are  only  so  many  sensations 


294  BERKELEY 

in  their  minds,  which  have  no  other  existence  but  barely  being 
perceived,  doubtless  they  would  never  fall  down  and  worship 
their  own  ideas;  but  rather  address  their  homage  to  that  ETER- 
NAL INVISIBLE  MIND  which  produces  and  sustains  all  things. 

95.  The  same  absurd  principle,  by  mingling  itself  with  the 
articles  of  our  faith,  has  occasioned  no  small  difficulties  to 
Christians.    For  example,  about  the  Resurrection,  how  many 
scruples  and  objections  have  been  raised  by  Socinians  and  others  ? 
But  do  not  the  most  plausible  of  them  depend  on  the  supposition 
that  a  body  is  denominated  the  same,  with  regard  not  to  the  form, 
or  that  which  is  perceived  by  sense,  but  the  material  substance, 
which  remains  the  same  under  several  forms?  Take  away  this 
material  substance,  about  the  identity  whereof  all  the  dispute  is, 
and  mean  by  body  what  every  plain  ordinary  person  means  by 
that  word,  to  wit,  that  which  is  immediately  seen  and  felt,  which 
is  only  a  combination  of  sensible  qualities  or  ideas:  and  then 
their  most  unanswerable  objections  come  to  nothing. 

96.  Matter  being  once  expelled  out  of  nature  drags  with  it  so 
many  sceptical  and  impious  notions,  such  an  incredible  number 
of  disputes  and  puzzling  questions,  which  have  been  thorns  in 
the  sides  of  divines  as  well  as  philosophers,  and  made  so  much 
fruitless  work  for  mankind,  that  if  the  arguments  we  have  pro- 
duced against  it  are  not  found  equal  to  demonstration  (as  to  me 
they  evidently  seem),  yet  I  am  sure  all  friends  to  knowledge, 
peace,  and  religion  have  reason  to  wish  they  were. 

97.  Beside  the  external  existence  of  the  objects  of  perception, 
another  great  source  of  errors  and  difficulties  with  regard  to 
ideal  knowledge  is  the  doctrine  of  abstract  ideas,  such  as  it  hath 
been  set  forth  in  the  Introduction.   The  plainest  things  in  the 
world,  those  we  are  most  intimately  acquainted  with  and  per- 
fectly know,  when  they  are  considered  in  an  abstract  way, 
appear  strangely  difficult  and  incomprehensible.    Time,  place, 
and  motion,  taken  in  particular  or  concrete,  are  what  everybody 
knows ;  but,  having  passed  through  the  hands  of  a  metaphysician, 
they  become  too  abstract  and  fine  to  be  apprehended  by  men 
of  ordinary  sense.  Bid  your  servant  meet  you  at  such  a  time  in 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    295 

such  a  place,  and  he  shall  never  stay  to  deliberate  on  the  meaning 
of  those  words.  In  conceiving  that  particular  time  and  place, 
or  the  motion  by  which  he  is  to  get  thither,  he  finds  not  the  least 
difficulty.  But  if  time  be  taken  exclusive  of  all  those  particular 
actions  and  ideas  that  diversify  the  day,  merely  for  the  continua- 
tion of  existence,  or  duration  in  abstract,  then  it  will  perhaps 
gravel  even  a  philosopher  to  comprehend  it. 

98.  For  my  own  part,  whenever  I  attempt  to  frame  a  simple 
idea  of  time,  abstracted  from  the  succession  of  ideas  in  my  mind, 
which  flows  uniformly  and  is  participated  by  all  beings,  I  am 
lost  and  embrangled  in  inextricable  difficulties.  I  have  no  notion 
of  it  at  all :  only  I  hear  others  say  it  is  infinitely  divisible,  and 
speak  of  it  in  such  a  manner  as  leads  me  to  harbour  odd  thoughts 
of  my  existence;  since  that  doctrine  lays  one  under  an  absolute 
necessity  of  thinking,  either  that  he  passes  away  innumerable 
ages  without  a  thought,  or  else  that  he  is  annihilated  every  mo- 
ment of  his  life,  both  which  seem  equally  absurd.    Time  there- 
fore being  nothing,  abstracted  from  the  succession  of  ideas  in 
our  minds,  it  follows  that  the  duration  of  any  finite  spirit  must 
be  estimated  by  the  number  of  ideas  or  actions  succeeding  each 
other  in  that  same  spirit  or  mind.   Hence,  it  is  a  plain  conse- 
quence that  the  soul  always  thinks;  and  in  truth  whoever  shall 
go  about  to  divide  in  his  thoughts,  or  abstract  the  existence  of  a 
spirit  from  its  cogitation,  will,  I  believe,  find  it  no  easy  task. 

99.  So  likewise  when  we  attempt  to  abstract  Extension  and 
Motion  from  all  other  qualities,  and  consider  them  by  themselves, 
we  presently  lose  sight  of  them,  and  run  into  great  extrava- 
gances.  All  which  depend  on  a  twofold  abstraction:  first,  it  is 
supposed  that  extension,  for  example,  may  be  abstracted  from  all 
other  sensible  qualities;  and  secondly,  that  the  entity  of  exten- 
sion may  be  abstracted  from  its  being  perceived.   But,  whoever 
shall  reflect,  and  take  care  to  understand  what  he  says,  will,  if  I 
mistake  not,  acknowledge  that  all  sensible  qualities  are  alike 
sensations  and  alike  real;  that  where  the  extension  is,  there  is 
the  colour,  too,  to  wit,  in  his  mind,  and  that  their  archetypes  can 
exist  only  in  some  other  mind;  and  that  the  objects  of  sense  are 
nothing  but  those  sensations  combined,  blended,  or  (if  one  may 


296  BERKELEY 

so  speak)  concreted  together:  —  none  of  all  which  can  be  sup- 
posed to  exist  unperceived. 

100.  What  it  is  for  a  man  to  be  happy,  or  an  object  good, 
every  one  may  think  he  knows.  But  to  frame  an  abstract  idea 
of  happiness,  prescinded  from  all  particular  pleasure,  or  of  good- 
ness from  everything  that  is  good,  this  is  what  few  can  pretend 
to.  So  likewise  a  man  may  be  just  and  virtuous  without  having 
precise  ideas  of  justice  and  virtue.  The  opinion  that  those  and 
the  like  words  stand  for  general  notions,  abstracted  from  all 
particular  persons  and  actions,  seems  to  have  rendered  morality 
very  difficult,  and  the  study  thereof  of  small  use  to  mankind. 
And  in  effect  the  doctrine  of  abstraction  has  not  a  little  contributed 
towards  spoiling  the  most  useful  parts  of  knowledge. 

135.  Having  despatched  what  we  intended  to  say  concerning 
the  knowledge  of  IDEAS,  the  method  we  proposed  leads  us  in 
the  next  place  to  treat  of  SPIRITS  —  with  regard  to  which,  per- 
haps, human  knowledge  is  not  so  deficient  as  is  vulgarly  imagined* 
The  great  reason  that  is  assigned  for  our  being  thought  ignorant 
of  the  nature  of  Spirits  is,  our  not  having  an  idea  of  it.   But, 
surely  it  ought  not  to  be  looked  on  as  a  defect  in  a  human  under- 
standing that  it  does  not  perceive  the  idea  of  spirit,  if  it  is  mani- 
festly impossible  there  should  be  any  such  idea.   And  this  if  I 
mistake  not  has  been  demonstrated  in  section  27 ;  to  which  I  shall 
here  add  —  that  a  spirit  has  been  shewn  to  be  the  only  substance 
or  support  wherein  unthinking  beings  or  ideas  can  exist ;  but  that 
this  substance  which  supports  or  perceives  ideas  should  itself  be 
an  idea  or  like  an  idea  is  evidently  absurd. 

136.  It  will  perhaps  be  said  that  we  want  a  sense  (as  some 
have  imagined)  proper  to  know  substances  withal,  which,  if  we 
had,  we  might  know  our  own  soul  as  we  do  a  triangle.   To  this 
I  answer,  that,  in  case  we  had  a  new  sense  bestowed  upon  us, 
we  could  only  receive  thereby  some  new  sensations  or  ideas  of 
sense.  But  I  believe  nobody  will  say  that  what  he  means  by  the 
terms  soul  and  substance  is  only  some  particular  sort  of  idea  or 
sensation.    We  may  therefore  infer  that,  all  things  duly  consid- 
ered, it  is  not  more  reasonable  to  think  our  faculties  defective, 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    297 

in  that  they  do  not  furnish  us  with  an  idea  of  spirit  or  active 
thinking  substance,  than  it  would  be  if  we  should  blame  them 
for  not  being  able  to  comprehend  a  round  square. 

137.  From  the  opinion  that  spirits  are  to  be  known  after  the 
manner  of  an  idea  or  sensation  have  risen  many  absurd  and 
heterodox  tenets,  and  much  scepticism  about  the  nature  of  the 
soul.   It  is  even  probable  that  this  opinion  may  have  produced  a 
doubt  in  some  whether  they  had  any  soul  at  all  distinct  from  their 
body,  since  upon  inquiry  they  could  not  find  they  had  an  idea 
of  it.  That  an  idea  which  is  inactive,  and  the  existence  whereof 
consists  in  being  perceived,  should  be  the  image  or  likeness  of  an 
agent  subsisting  by  itself,  seems  to  need  no  other  refutation  than 
barely  attending  to  what  is  meant  by  those  words.   But,  perhaps 
you  will  say  that  though  an  idea  cannot  resemble  a  spirit  in  its 
thinking,  acting,  or  subsisting  by  itself,  yet  it  may  in  some  other 
respects;  and  it  is  not  necessary  that  an  idea  or  image  be  in  all 
respects  like  the  original. 

138.  I  answer,  if  it  does  not  in  those  mentioned,  it  is  impossible 
it  should  represent  it  in  any  other  thing.    Do  but  leave  out  the 
power  of  willing,  thinking,  and  perceiving  ideas,  and  there  re- 
mains nothing  else  wherein  the  idea  can  be  like  a  spirit.   For,  by 
the  word  spirit  we  mean  only  that  which  thinks,  wills,  and  per- 
ceives; this,  and  this  alone,  constitutes  the  signification  of  that 
term.  If  therefore  it  is  impossible  that  any  degree  of  those  powers 
should  be  represented  in  an  idea,  it  is  evident  there  can  be  no 
idea  of  a  spirit. 

139.  But  it  will  be  objected  that,  if  there  is  no  idea  signified 
by  the  terms  soul,  spirit,  and  substance,  they  are  wholly  insig- 
nificant, or  have  no  meaning  in  them.   I  answer,  those  words  do 
mean  or  signify  a  real  thing  —  which  is  neither  an  idea  nor  like  an 
idea,  but  that  which  perceives  ideas,  and  wills,  and  reasons  about 
them.   What  I  am  myself,  that  which  I  denote  by  the  term  7, 
is  the  same  with  what  is  meant  by  soul  or  spiritual  substance. 
If  it  be  said  that  this  is  only  quarreling  at  a  word,  and  that,  since 
the  immediate   significations  of  other  names   are   by  common 
consent  called  ideas,  no  reason  can  be  assigned  why  that  which 
is  signified  by  the  name  spirit  or  soul  may  not  partake  in  the 


298  BERKELEY 

same  appellation,  I  answer,  all  the  unthinking  objects  of  the 
mind  agree  in  that  they  are  entirely  passive,  and  their  existence 
consists  only  in  being  perceived;  whereas  a  soul  or  spirit  is  an 
active  being,  whose  existence  consists,  not  in  being  perceived, 
but  in  perceiving  ideas  and  thinking.  It  is  therefore  necessary, 
in  order  to  prevent  equivocation  and  confounding  natures  per- 
fectly disagreeing  and  unlike,  that  we  distinguish  between  spirit 
and  idea.  See  sect.  27. 

140.  In  a  large  sense,  indeed,  we  may  be  said  to  have  an  idea, 
or  rather  a  notion  of  spirit;  that  is,  we  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  word,  otherwise  we  could  not  affirm  or  deny  anything  of  it. 
Moreover,  as  we  conceive  the  ideas  that  are  in  the  minds  of  other 
spirits  by  means  of  our  own,  which  we  suppose  to  be  resemblances 
of  them ;  so  we  know  other  spirits  by  means  of  our  own  soul  — 
which  in  that  sense  is  the  image  or  idea  of  them;  it  having  a  like 
respect  to  other  spirits  that  blueness  or  heat  by  me  perceived 
has  to  those  ideas  perceived  by  another. 

141.  [The  natural  immortality  of  the  Soul  is  a  necessary  conse- 
quence of  the  foregoing  doctrine.  But  before  we  attempt  to  prove 
this,  it  is  fit  that  we  explain  the  meaning  of  that  tenet.]*  It  must 
not  be  supposed  that  they  who  assert  the  natural  immortality 
of  the  soul  are  of  opinion  that  it  is  absolutely  incapable  of  anni- 
hilation even  by  the  infinite  power  of  the  Creator  who  first  gave 
it  being,  but  only  that  it  is  not  liable  to  be  broken  or  dissolved 
by  the  ordinary  laws  of  nature  or  motion.  They  indeed  who  hold 
the  soul  of  man  to  be  only  a  thin  vital  flame,  or  system  of  animal 
spirits,  make  it  perishing  and  corruptible  as  the  body ;  since  there 
is  nothing  more  easily  dissipated  than  such  a  being,  which  it  is 
naturally  impossible  should  survive  the  ruin  of  the  tabernacle 
wherein  it  is  enclosed.   And  this  notion  has  been  greedily  em- 
braced and  cherished  by  the  worst  part  of  mankind,  as  the  most 
"effectual  antidote  against  all  impressions  of  virtue  and  religion. 
But  it  has  been  made  evident  that  bodies,  of  what  frame  or  text- 
ure soever,  are  barely  passive  ideas  in  the  mind  —  which  is  more 
distant  and  heterogeneous  from  them  than  light  is  from  darkness. 
We  have  shewn  that  the  soul  is  indivisible,  incorporeal,  unex- 

*  Omitted  from  the  second  edition. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    299 

tended,  and  it  is  consequently*  incorruptible.  Nothing  can  be 
plainer  than  that  the  motions,  changes,  decays,  and  dissolutions 
which  we  hourly  see  befall  natural  bodies  (and  which  is  what 
we  mean  by  the  course  of  nature)  cannot  possibly  affect  an  active, 
simple,  uncompounded  substance:  such  a  being  therefore  is  in- 
dissoluble by  the  force  of  nature;  that  is  to  say,  "the  soul  of  man 
is  naturally  immortal." 

142.  After  what  has  been  said,  it  is,  I  suppose,  plain  that  our 
souls  are  not  to  be  known  in  the  same  manner  as  senseless, 
inactive  objects,  or  by  way  of  idea.   Spirits  and  ideas  are  things 
so  wholly  different,  that  when  we  say  "they  exist,"  "they  are 
known,"  or  the  like,  these  words  must  not  be  thought  to  signify 
anything  common  to  both  natures.    There  is  nothing  alike  or 
common  in  them:  and  to  expect  that  by  any  multiplication  or 
enlargement  of  our  faculties  we  may  be  enabled  to  know  a  spirit 
as  we  do  a  triangle,  seems  as  absurd  as  if  we  should  hope  to  see 
a  sound.  This  is  inculcated  because  I  imagine  it  may  be  of  mo- 
ment towards  clearing  several  important  questions,  and  prevent- 
ing some  very  dangerous  errors  concerning  the  nature  of  the  soul. 

*  We  may  not,  I  think,  strictly  be  said  to  have  an  idea  of  an 
active  being,  or  of  an  action,  although  we  may  be  said  to  have 
a  notion  of  them.   I  have  some  knowledge  or  notion  of  my 
mind,  and  its  acts  about  ideas  —  inasmuch  as  I  know  or  under- 
stand what  is  meant  by  these  words.  What  I  know,  that  I  have 
some  notion  of.  I  will  not  say  that  the  terms  idea  and  notion  may 
not  be  used  convertibly,  if  the  world  will  have  it  so;  but  yet  it 
conduceth  to  clearness  and  propriety  that  we  distinguish  things 
very  different  by  different  names.  It  is  also  to  be  remarked  that, 
all  relations  including  an  act  of  the  mind,  we  cannot  so  properly 
be  said  to  have  an  idea,  but  rather  a  notion  of  the  relations  and 
habitudes  between  things.   But  if,  in  the  modern  way,  the  word 
idea  is  extended  to  spirits,  and  relations,  and  acts,  this  is,  after 
all,  an  affair  of  verbal  concern. 

143.  It  will  not  be  amiss  to  add,  that  the  doctrine  of  abstract 

*  What  follows  to  the  end  of  this  section  was  introduced  in  the  second  edition, 
and  in  it  this  special  use  of  the  term  notion  was  first  made. 


3oo  BERKELEY 

ideas  has  had  no  small  share  in  rendering  those  sciences  intricate 
and  obscure  which  are  particularly  conversant  about  spiritual 
things.  Men  have  imagined  they  could  frame  abstract  notions 
of  the  powers  and  acts  of  the  mind,  and  consider  them  prescinded 
as  well  from  the  mind  or  spirit  itself,  as  from  their  respective 
objects  and  effects.  Hence  a  great  number  of  dark  and  ambigu- 
ous terms,  presumed  to  stand  for  abstract  notions,  have  been 
introduced  into  metaphysics  and  morality,  and  from  these  have 
grown  infinite  distractions  and  disputes  among  the  learned. 

144.  But,  nothing  seems  more  to  have  contributed  towards 
engaging  men  in  controversies  and  mistakes  with  regard  to  the 
nature  and  operations  of  the  mind,  than  the  being  used  to  speak 
of  those  things  in  terms  borrowed  from  sensible  ideas.   For  ex- 
ample, the  will  is  termed  the  motion  of  the  soul:  this  infuses  a 
belief  that  the  mind  of  man  is  as  a  ball  in  motion,  impelled  and 
determined  by  the  objects  of  sense,  as  necessarily  as  that  is  by 
the  stroke  of  a  racket.   Hence  arise  endless  scruples  and  errors 
of  dangerous  consequence  in  morality.   All  which,  I  doubt  not, 
may  be  cleared,  and  truth  appear  plain,  uniform,  and  consistent, 
could  but  philosophers  be  prevailed  on  to  depart  from  some 
received  prejudices  and  modes  of-  speech,  and  retire  into  them- 
selves, and  attentively  consider  their  own  meaning. 

145.  From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  plain  that  we  cannot 
know  the  existence  of  other  spirits  otherwise  than  by  their 
operations,  or  the  ideas  by  them  excited  in  us.  I  perceive  several 
motions,  changes,  and  combinations  of  ideas,  that  inform  me 
there  are  certain  particular  agents,  like  myself,  which  accompany 
them  and  concur  in  their  production.    Hence,  the  knowledge 
I  have  of  other  spirits  is  not  immediate,  as  is  the  knowledge  of 
my  ideas;  but  depending  on  the  intervention  of  ideas,  by  me 
referred  to  agents  or  spirits  distinct  from  myself,  as  effects  or 
concomitant  signs. 

146.  But,  though  there  be  some  things  which  convince  us 
human  agents  are  concerned  in  producing  them,  yet  it  is  evi- 
dent to  every  one  that  those  things  which  are  called  the  Works 
of  Nature  —  that  is,  the  far  greater  part  of  the  ideas  or  sensa- 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    301 

tions  perceived  by  us  —  are  not  produced  by,  or  dependent  on, 
the  wills  of  men.  There  is  therefore  some  other  Spirit  that  causes 
them;  since  it  is  repugnant  that  they  should  subsist  by  them- 
selves. See  sect.  29.  But,  if  we  attentively  consider  the  constant 
regularity,  order,  and  concatenation  of  natural  things,  the  sur- 
prising magnificence,  beauty,  and  perfection  of  the  larger,  and 
the  exquisite  contrivance  of  the  smaller  parts  of  creation,  together 
with  the  exact  harmony  and  correspondence  of  the  whole;  but 
above  all  the  never-enough-admired  laws  of  pain  and  pleasure, 
and  the  instincts  or  natural  inclinations,  appetites,  and  passions 
of  animals ;  —  I  say  if  we  consider  all  these  things,  and  at  the 
same  time  attend  to  the  meaning  and  import  of  the  attributes 
One,  Eternal,  Infinitely  Wise,  Good,  and  Perfect,  we  shall  clearly 
perceive  that  they  belong  to  the  aforesaid  Spirit,  "who  works 
all  in  all,"  and  "by  whom  all  things  consist." 

147.  Hence,  it  is  evident  that  God  is  known  as  certainly  and 
immediately  as  any  other  mind  or  spirit  whatsoever  distinct  from 
ourselves.   We  may  even  assert  that  the  existence  of  God  is  far 
more  evidently  perceived  than  the  existence  of  men ;  because  the 
effects  of  Nature  are  infinitely  more  numerous  and  considerable 
than  those  ascribed  to  human  agents.    There  is  not  any  one 
mark  that  denotes  a  man,  or  effect  produced  by  him,  which  does 
not  more  strongly  evince  the  being  of  that  Spirit  who  is  the  Author 
of  Nature.   For,  it  is  evident  that  in  affecting  other  persons  the 
will  of  man  has  no  other  object  than  barely  the  motion  of  the 
limbs  of  his  body ;  but  that  such  a  motion  should  be  attended  by, 
or  excite  any  idea  in  the  mind  of  another,  depends  wholly  on  the 
will  of  the  Creator.   He  alone  it  is  who,  "upholding  all  things 
by  the  word  of  His  power,"  maintains  that  intercourse  between 
spirits  whereby  they  are  able  to  perceive  the  existence  of  each 
other.  And  yet  this  pure  and  clear  light  which  enlightens  every 
one  is  itself  invisible. 

148.  It  seems  to  be  a  general  pretence  of  the  unthinking  herd 
that  they  cannot  see  God.   Could  we  but  see  Him,  say  they,  as 
we  see  a  man,  we  should  believe  that  He  is,  and  believing  obey 
His  commands.    But  alas,  we  need  only  open  our  eyes  to  see 
the  Sovereign  Lord  of  all  things,  with  a  more  full  and  clear  view 


302 


BERKELEY 


than  we  do  any  one  of  our  fellow-creatures.  Not  that  I  imagine 
we  see  God  (as  some  will  have  it)  by  a  direct  and  immediate 
view;  or  see  corporeal  things,  not  by  themselves,  but  by  seeing 
that  which  represents  them  in  the  essence  of  God,  which  doctrine 
is,  I  must  confess,  to  me  incomprehensible.  But  I  shall  explain 
my  meaning:  —  A  human  spirit  or  person  is  not  perceived  by 
sense,  as  not  being  an  idea;  when  therefore  we  see  the  colour, 
size,  figure,  and  motions  of  a  man,  we  perceive  only  certain 
sensations  or  ideas  excited  in  our  own  minds;  and  these  being 
exhibited  to  our  view  in  sundry  distinct  collections,  serve  to 
mark  out  unto  us  the  existence  of  finite  and  created  spirits  like 
ourselves.  Hence  it  is  plain  we  do  not  see  a  man  —  if  by  man 
is  meant  that  which  lives,  moves,  perceives,  and  thinks  as  we  do 
-  but  only  such  a  certain  collection  of  ideas  as  directs  us  to 
think  there  is  a  distinct  principle  of  thought  and  motion,  like 
to  ourselves,  accompanying  and  represented  by  it.  And  after 
the  same  manner  we  see  God;  all  the  difference  is  that,  whereas 
some  one  finite  and  narrow  assemblage  of  ideas  denotes  a  particu- 
lar human  mind,  whithersoever  we  direct  our  view,  we  do  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places  perceive  manifest  tokens  of  the  Divin- 
ity: everything  we  see,  hear,  feel,  or  anywise  perceive  by  Sense, 
being  a  sign  or  effect  of  the  power  of  God;  as  is  our  perception 
of  those  very  motions  which  are  produced  by  men. 

149.  It  is  therefore  plain  that  nothing  can  be  more  evident  to 
any  one  that  is  capable  of  the  least  reflexion  than  the  existence 
of  God,  or  a  Spirit  who  is  intimately  present  to  our  minds  - 
producing  in  them  all  that  variety  of  ideas  or  sensations  which 
continually  affect  us,  on  whom  we  have  an  absolute  and  entire 
dependence,  in  short  "in  whom  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our 
being."    That  the  discovery  of  this  great  truth,  which  lies  so 
near  and  obvious  to  the  mind,  should  be  attained  to  by  the  reason 
of  so  very  few,  is  a  sad  instance  of  the  stupidity  and  inattention 
of  men,  who,  though  they  are  surrounded  with  such  clear  mani- 
festations of  the  Deity,  are  yet  so  little  affected  by  them  that  they 
seem,  as  it  were,  blinded  with  excess  of  light. 

150.  But  you  will  say,  Hath  Nature  no  share  in  the  produc- 
tion of  natural  things,  and  must  they  be  all  ascribed  to  the  imme- 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    303 

diate  and  sole  operation  of  God?  I  answer,  if  by  Nature  is 
meant  only  the  visible  series  of  effects  or  sensations  imprinted 
on  our  minds,  according  to  certain  fixed  and  general  laws,  then 
it  is  plain  that  Nature,  taken  in  this  sense,  cannot  produce  any- 
thing at  all.  But,  if  by  Nature  is  meant  some  being  distinct  from 
God,  as  well  as  from  the  laws  of  nature,  and  things  perceived  by 
sense,  I  must  confess  that  word  is  to  me  an  empty  sound  without 
any  intelligible  meaning  annexed  to  it.  Nature,  in  this  accepta- 
tion, is  a  vain  chimera,  introduced  by  those  heathens  who  had 
not  just  notions  of  the  omnipresence  and  infinite  perfection  of 
God.  But,  it  is  more  unaccountable  that  it  should  be  received 
among  Christians,  professing  belief  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  which 
constantly  ascribe  those  effects  to  the  immediate  hand  of  God 
that  heathen  philosophers  are  wont  to  impute  to  Nature?  "The 
Lord  He  causeth  the  vapours  to  ascend;  He  maketh  lightnings 
with  rain;  He  bringeth  forth  the  wind  out  of  his  treasures." 
Jerem.  x.  13.  "  He  furneth  the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning, 
and  maketh  the  day  dark  with  night."  Amos  v.  8.  "He  visiteth 
the  earth,  and  maketh  it  soft  with  showers:  He  blesseth  the 
springing  thereof,  and  crowneth  the  year  with  His  goodness;  so 
that  the  pastures  are  clothed  with  flocks,  and  the  valleys  are 
covered  over  with  corn."  See  Psalm  Ixv.  But,  notwithstanding 
that  this  is  the  constant  language  of  Scripture,  yet  we  have  I 
know  not  what  aversion  from  believing  that  God  concerns  Him- 
self so  nearly  in  our  affairs.  Fain  would  we  suppose  Him  at  a 
great  distance  off,  and  substitute  some  blind  unthinking  deputy 
in  His  stead,  though  (if  we  may  believe  Saint  Paul)  "He  be  not 
far  from  every  one  of  us." 

151.  It  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  objected  that  the  slow,  gradual,  and 
roundabout  methods  observed  in  the  production  of  natural 
things  do  not  seem  to  have  for  their  cause  the  immediate  hand 
of  an  Almighty  Agent.  Besides,  monsters,  untimely  births,  fruits 
blasted  in  the  blossom,  rains  falling  in  desert  places,  miseries 
incident  to  human  life,  and  the  like,  are  so  many  arguments 
that  the  whole  frame  of  nature  is  not  immediately  actuated  and 
superintended  by  a  Spirit  of  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness.  But 
the  answer  to  this  objection  is  in  a  good  measure  plain  from  sect. 


3o4  BERKELEY 

62 ;  it  being  visible  that  the  aforesaid  methods  of  nature  are  ab- 
solutely necessary,  in  order  to  working  by  the  most  simple  and 
general  rules,  and  after  a  steady  and  consistent  manner;  which 
argues  both  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God.  Such  is  the  arti- 
ficial contrivance  of  this  mighty  machine  of  Nature  that,  whilst  its 
motions  and  various  phenomena  strike  on  our  senses,  the  hand 
which  actuates  the  whole  is  itself  unperceivable  to  men  of  flesh 
and  blood.  "Verily"  (saith  the  prophet)  "thou  art  a  God  that 
hidest  thyself."  Isaiah  xlv.  15.  But,  though  the  Lord  conceal 
Himself  from  the  eyes  of  the  sensual  and  lazy,  who  will  not  be 
at  the  least  expense  of  thought,  yet  to  an  unbiassed  and  atten- 
tive mind  nothing  can  be  more  plainly  legible  than  the  intimate 
presence  of  an  All- wise  Spirit,  who  fashions,  regulates,  and 
sustains  the  whole  system  of  beings.  It  is  clear,  from  what  we 
have  elsewhere  observed,  that  the  operating  according  to  gen- 
eral and  stated  laws  is  so  necessary  for  our  guidance  in  the 
affairs  of  life,  and  letting  us  into  the  secret  of  nature,  that  with- 
out it  all  reach  and  compass  of  thought,  all  human  sagacity  and 
design,  could  serve  to  no  manner  of  purpose.  It  were  even  im- 
possible there  should  be  any  such  faculties  or  powers  in  the 
mind.  See  sect.  31.  Which  one  consideration  abundantly  out- 
balances whatever  particular  inconveniences  may  thence  arise. 
152.  But  we  should  further  consider  that  the  very  blemishes 
and  defects  of  nature  are  not  without  their  use,  in  that  they  make 
an  agreeable  sort  of  variety,  and  augment  the  beauty  of  the  rest 
of  the  creation,  as  shades  in  a  picture  serve  to  set  off  the  brighter 
and  more  enlightened  parts.  We  would  likewise  do  well  to  ex- 
amine whether  our  taxing  the  waste  of  seeds  and  embryos,  and 
accidental  destruction  of  plants  and  animals,  before  they  come 
to  full  maturity,  as  an  imprudence  in  the  Author  of  nature,  be 
not  the  effect  of  prejudice  contracted  by  our  familiarity  with 
impotent  and  saving  mortals.  In  man  indeed  a  thrifty  man- 
agement of  those  things  which  he  cannot  procure  without  much 
pains  and  industry  may  be  esteemed  wisdom.  But,  we  must 
not  imagine  that  the  inexplicably  fine  machine  of  an  animal  or 
vegetable  costs  the  great  Creator  any  more  pains  or  trouble  in 
its  production  than  a  pebble  does;  nothing  being  more  evident 


PRINCIPLES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE    305 

than  that  an  Omnipotent  Spirit  can  indifferently  produce  every- 
thing by  a  mere  fiat  or  act  of  His  will.  Hence  it  is  plain  that  the 
splendid  profusion  of  natural  things  should  not  be  interpreted 
weakness  or  prodigality  in  the  Agent  who  produces  them,  but 
rather  be  looked  on  as  an  argument  of  the  riches  of  His  power. 

153.  As  for  the  mixture  of  pain  or  uneasiness  which  is  in  the 
world,  pursuant  to  the  general  laws  of  Nature,  and  the  actions 
of  finite,  imperfect  Spirits,  this,  in  the  state  we  are  in  at  present, 
is  indispensably  necessary  to  our  well-being.    But  our  prospects 
are  too  narrow.    We  take,  for  instance,  the  idea  of  some  one 
particular  pain  into  our  thoughts,  and  account  it  evil ;  whereas, 
if  we  enlarge  our  view,  so  as  to  comprehend  the  various  ends, 
connexions,  and  dependencies  of  things,  on  what  occasions  and 
in  what  proportions  we  are  affected  with  pain  and  pleasure,  the 
nature  of  human  freedom,  and  the  design  with  which  we  are 
put  into  the  world;  we  shall  be  forced  to  acknowledge  that  those 
particular  things  which,  considered  in  themselves,  appear  to  be 
evil,  have  the  nature  of  good,  when  considered  as  linked  with 
the  whole  system  of  beings. 

154.  From  what  has  been  said,  it  will  be  manifest  to  any  con- 
sidering person,  that  it  is  merely  for  want  of  attention  and  com- 
prehensiveness of  mind  that  there  are  any  favourers  of  Atheism 
or  the  Manichaean  Heresy  *  to  be  found.  Little  and  unreflecting 
souls  may  indeed  burlesque  the  works  of  Providence  —  the  beauty 
and  order  whereof  they  have  not  capacity,  or  will  not  be  at  the 
pains,  to  comprehend;  but  those  who  are  masters  of  any  justness 
and  extent  of  thought,  and  are  withal  used  to  reflect,  can  never 
sufficiently  admire  the  divine  traces  of  Wisdom  and  Goodness 
that  shine  throughout  the  Economy  of  Nature.   But  what  truth 
is  there  which  glares  so  strongly  on  the  mind  that,  by  an  aversion 
of  thought  —  a  wilful  shutting  of  the  eyes  —  we  may  not  escape 
seeing  it  ?   Is  it  therefore  to  be  wondered  at,  if  the  generality  of 
men,  who  are  ever  intent  on  business  or  pleasure,  and  little  used 
to  fix  or  open  the  eye  of  their  mind,  should  not  have  all  that 

*  Manichaeism,  the  doctrine  of  Manes,  a  Persian  philosopher  of  the  third  cen- 
tury, who  held  the  essential  and  eternal  duality  of  the  Supreme  Power  to  be  the 
explanation  of  the  mingled  good  and  evil  that  is  in  the  universe. 


306  BERKELEY 

conviction  and  evidence  of  the  Being  of  God  which  might  be 
expected  in  reasonable  creatures? 

155.  We  should  rather  wonder  that  men  can  be  found  so  stupid 
as  to  neglect,  than  that  neglecting  they  should  be  unconvinced 
of  such  an  evident  and  momentous  truth.   And  yet  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  too  many  of  parts  and  leisure,  who  live  in  Christian 
countries,  are,  merely  through  a  supine  and  dreadful  negligence, 
sunk  into  Atheism.  [They  cannot  say  there  is  not  a  God,  but 
neither  are  they  convinced  that  there  is.]*    Since  it  is  down- 
right impossible  that  a  soul  pierced  and  enlightened  with  a 
thorough  sense  of  the  omnipresence,  holiness,  and  justice  of  that 
Almighty  Spirit  should  persist  in  a  remorseless  violation  of  His 
laws,  —  we  ought,  therefore,  earnestly  to  meditate  and  dwell  on 
those  important  points;  that  so  we  may  attain  conviction  without 
all  scruple  "  that  the  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every  place  behold- 
ing the  evil  and  the  good ;  that  He  is  with  us  and  keepeth  us  in 
all  places  whither  we  go,  and  giveth  us  bread  to  eat  and  raiment 
to  put  on;"  that  He  is  present  and  conscious  to  our  innermost 
thoughts;  in  fine,  that  we  have  a  most  absolute  and  immediate 
dependence  on  Him.    A  clear  view  of  which  great  truths  cannot 
choose  but  fill  our  hearts  with  an  awful  circumspection  and  holy 
fear,  which  is  the  strongest  incentive  to  Virtue,  and  the  best  guard 
against  Vice.  ^ 

156.  For,  after  all,  what  deserves  the  first  place  in  our  studies 
is  the  consideration  of  GOD  and  our  Duty,  which  to  promote,  as 
it  was  the  main  drift  and  design  of  my  labours,  so  shall  I  esteem 
them  altogether  useless  and  ineffectual  if,  by  what  I  have  said, 
I  cannot  inspire  my  readers  with  a  pious  sense  of  the  Presence  of 
God;  and,  having  shewn  the  falseness  or  vanity  of  those  barren 
speculations  which  make  the  chief  employment  of  learned  men, 
the  better  dispose  them  to  reverence  and  embrace  the  salutary 
truths  of  the  Gospel,  which  to  know  and  to  practice  is  the  highest 
perfection  of  human  nature. 

*  Omitted  in  second  edition. 


DAVID  HUME 

(1711-1766) 

AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDER- 
STANDING* 

SECTION   II.    OF    THE   ORIGIN   OF   IDEAS 

EVERY  one  will  readily  allow,  that  there  is  a  considerable  differ- 
^encc  between  the  perceptions  of  the  mind,  when  a  man  feels  the 
pain  of  excessive  heat,  or  the  pleasure  of  moderate  warmth, 
and  when  he  afterwards  recalls  to  his  memory  this  sensation, 
or  anticipates  it  by  his  imagination.'  These  faculties  may  mimic 
or  copy  the  perceptions  of  the  senses ;  but  they  never  can  entirely 
reach  the  force  and  vivacity  of  the  original  sentiment.'  The 
utmost  we  say  of  them,  even  when  they  operate  with  greatest 
vigour,  is,  that  they  represent  their  object  in  so  lively  a  manner, 
that  we  could^/w^)say  we  feel  or  see  it.  But,  except  the  mind 
be  disorderecHjy  disease  or  madness,  they  never  can  arrive  at 
such  a  pitch  of  vivacity,  as  to  render  these  perceptions  altogether 
undistinguishable.  All  the  colours  of  poetry,  however  splendid, 
can  never  paint  natural  objects  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make 
the  description  be  taken  for  a  real  landskip.  The  most  lively 
thought  is  still  inferior  to  the  dullest  sensation. 

We  may  observe  a  like  distinction  to  run  through  all  the  other 
perceptions  of  the  mind.  A  man  in  a  fit  of  anger,  is  actuated  in  a 
very  different  manner  from  one  who  only  thinks  of  that  emotion. 
If  you  tell  me,  that  any  person  is  in  love,  I  easily  understand 
your  meaning,  and  form  a  just  conception  of  his  situation;  but 
never  can  mistake  that  conception  for  the  real  disorders  and 
agitations  of  the  passion/  When  we  reflect  on  our  past  senti- 
ments and  affections,  our  thought  is  a  faithful  mirror,  and  copies 
its  objects  truly;  but  the  colours  which  it  employs  are  faint  and 
dull,  in  comparison  of  those  in  which  our  original  perceptions 
*  First  edition,  London,  1748;  id..  Essays,  *&.,  1777;  ib.,  1898,  vol.  ii. 


3o8  HUME 

were  clothed.  It  requires  no  nice  discernment  or  metaphysical 
head  to  mark  the  distinction  between  them. 

Here  therefore  we  may  divide  all  the  perceptions  of  the  mind 
into  two  classes  or  species,  which  are  distinguished  by  their 
different  degrees  of  force  and  vivacity.  The  less  forcible  and 
lively  are  commonly  denominated  Thoughts ;  or  Ideas.  The  other 
species  want  a  name  in  our  language,  and  in  most  others;  I 
suppose,  because  it  was  not  requisite  for  any  but  philosophical 
purposes,  to  rank  them  under  a  general  term  or  appellation. 
Let  us,  therefore,  use  a  little  freedom,  and  call  them  Impres- 
sions; employing  that  word  in  a  sense  somewhat  different  from 
the  usual.  By  the  term  impression,  then,  I  mean  all  our  more 
lively  perceptions,  when  we  hear,  or  see,  or  feel,  or  love,  or  hate, 
or  desire,  or  will.  And  the  impressions  are  distinguished  from 
ideas,  which  are  the  less  lively  perceptions,  of  which  we  are 
conscious,  when  we  reflect  on  any  of  those  sensations  or  move- 
ments above  mentioned. 

Nothing,  at  first  view,  may  seem  more  unbounded  than  the 
thought  of  man,  which  not  only  escapes  all  human  power  and 
authority,  but  is  not  even  restrained  within  the  limits  of  nature 
and  reality.  To  form  monsters,  and  join  incongruous  shapes 
and  appearances,  costs  the  imagination  no  more  trouble  than 
to  conceive  the  most  natural  and  familiar  objects.  And  while 
the  body  is  confined  to  one  planet,  along  which  it  creeps  with 
pain  and  difficulty;  the  thought  can  in  an  instant  transport  us 
into  the  most  distant  regions  of  the  universe;  or  even  beyond 
the  universe,  into  the  unbounded  chaos,  where  nature  is  supposed 
to  lie  in  total  confusion.  What  never  was  seen,  or  heard  of,  may 
yet  be  conceived;  nor  is  any  thing  beyond  the  power  of  thought, 
except  what  implies  an  absolute  contradiction. 

But  though  our  thought  seems  to  possess  this  unbounded 
liberty,  we  shall  find,  upon  a  nearer  examination,  that  it  is  really 
confined  within  very  narrow  limits,  and  that  all  this  creative 
power  of  the  mind  amounts  to  no  more  than  the  faculty  of  com- 
pounding, transposing,  augmenting,  or  diminishing  the  materials 
afforded  us  by  the  senses  and  experience.  When  we  think  of  a 
golden  mountain,  we  only  join  two  consistent  ideas,  gold,  and 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    309 

mountain,  with  which  we  were  formerly  acquainted.  A  virtuous 
horse  we  can  conceive;  because,  from  our  own  feeling,  we  can 
conceive  virtue;  and  this  we  may  unite  to  the ifigure  and  shape 
of  a  horse,  which  is  an  animal  familiar  to  us.  In  short,  all  the 
materials  of  thinking  are  derived  either  from  our  outward  or 
inward  sentiment :  The  mixture  and  composition  of  these  belongs 
alone  to  the  mind  and  will.  Or,  to  express  myself  in  philosophical 
language,  a^ourideas  or  more  feeble  perceptions  are  copies  of 
our  impressions  or  more  lively  ones. 

To  prove  this,  the  two  following  arguments  will,  I  hope,  be 
sufficient.  First,  when  we  analyze  our  thoughts  or  ideas,  however 
compounded,  or  sublime,  we  always  find  that  they  resolve  them- 
selves into  such  simple  ideas  as  were  copied  from  a  precedent 
feeling  or  sentiment.  Even  those  ideas,  which,  at  first  view,  seem, 
the  most  wide  of  this  origin,  are  found,  upon  a  nearer  scrutiny, 
to  be  derived  from  it.  The  idea  of  God,  as  meaning  an  infinitely 
intelligent,  wise,  and  good  Being,  arises  from  reflecting  on  the 
operations  of  our  own  mind,  and  augmenting,  without  limit, 
those  qualities  of  goodness  and  wisdom,.  We  may  prosecute 
this  enquiry  to  what  length  we  please ;'  where  we  shall  always  . 
find,  that  every  idea  which  we  examine  js  copied  from  a  sim-  yV 
ilar  impression.  Those  who  would  assert  that  this  position  is 
not  universally  true  nor  without  exception,  have  only  one,  and 
that  an  easy  method  of  refuting  it;  by  producing  that  idea, 
which,  in  their  opinion,  is  not  derived  from  this  source.  It  will 
then  be  incumbent  on  us,  if  we  would  maintain  our  doctrine,  to  } 
produce  the  impression,  or  lively  perception,  which  corresponds 
to  it. 

Secondly.  If  it  happen,  from  a  defect  of  the  organ,  that  a 
man  is  not  susceptible  of  any  species  of  sensation,  we  always 
find, that  he  is  as  little  susceptible  of  the  correspondent  ideas. 
A  blind  man  can  form  no  notion  of  colours ;  a  deaf  man  of  sounds. 
Restore  either  of  them  that  sense  in  which  he  is  deficient;  by 
opening  this  new  inlet  for  his  sensations,  you  also  open  an  inlet 
for  the  ideas;  and  he  finds  no  difficulty  in  conceiving  these 
objects.  The  case  is  the  same,  if  the  object,  proper  for  exciting 
any  sensation,  has  never  been  applied  to  the  organ.  A  Laplander 


3io  HUME 

or  Negro  has  no  notion  of  the  relish  of  wine.  And  though  there 
are  few  or  no  instances  of  a  like  deficiency  in  the  mind,  where  a 
person  has  never  felt  or  is  wholly  incapable  of  a  sentiment  or 
passion  that  belongs  to  his  species;  yet  we  find  the  same  observa- 
tion to  take  place  in  a  less  degree.  A  man  of  mild  manners  can 
form  no  idea  of  inveterate  revenge  or  cruelty;  nor  can  a  selfish 
heart  easily  conceive  the  heights  of  friendship  and  generosity. 
It  is  readily  allowed,  that  other  beings  may  possess  many  senses 
of  which  we  can  have  no  conception;  because  the  ideas  of  them 
have  never  been  introduced  to  us  in  the  only  runner  by  which  an 
idea  can  have  access  to  the  mind,  to  wit,  by  the  actual  feeling  and 
sensation. 

There  is,  however,  one  contradictory  phenomenon,  which 
may  prove  that  it  is  not  absolutely  impossible  for  ideas  to  arise, 
independent  of  their  correspondent  impressions.  I  believe  it  will 
readily  be  allowed,  that  the  several  distinct  ideas  of  colour, 
which  enter  by  the  eye,  or  those  of  sound,  which  are  conveyed 
by  the  ear,  are  really  different  from  each  other;  though,  at  the 
same  time,  resembling.  Now  if  this  be  true  of  different  colours, 
it  must  be  no  less  so  of  the  different  shades  of  the  same  colour; 
and  each  shade  produces  a  distinct  idea,  independent  of  the  rest. 
For  if  this  should  be  denied,  it  is  possible,  by  the  continual  gra- 
dation of  shades,  to  run  a  colour  insensibly  into  what  is  most 
remote  from  it ;  and  if  you  will  not  allow  any  of  the  means  to  be 
different,  you  cannot,  without  absurdity,  d£ny  the  extremes  to 
be  the  same.  Suppose,  therefore,  a  person  to  have  enjoyed  his 
sight  for  thirty  years,  and  to  have  become  perfectly  acquainted 
with  colours  of  all  kinds  except  one  particular  shade  of  blue, 
for  instance,  which  it  never  has  been  his  fortune  to  meet  with. 
Let  all  the  different  shades  of  that  colour,  except  that  single  one, 
be  placed  before  him,  descending  gradually  from  the  deepest  to 
the  lightest;  it  is  plain  that  he  will  perceive  a  blank,  where  that 
shade  is  wanting,  and  will  be  sensible  that  there  is  a  greater  dis- 
tance in  that  place  between  the  contiguous  colours  than  in  any 
other.  Now  I  ask,  whether  it  be  possible  for  him,  from  his  own 
imagination,  to  supply  this  deficiency,  and  raise  up  to  himself  the 
idea  of  that  particular  shade,  though  it  had  never  been  conveyed 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    311 

to  him  by  his  senses?  I  believe  there  are  few  but  will  be  of 
opinion  that  he  can :  and  this  may  serve  as  a  proof  that  the  simple 
ideas  are  not  always,  in  every  instance,  derived  from  the  corre- 
spondent impressions;  though  this  instance  is  so  singular,  that 
it  is  scarcely  worth  our  observing,  and  does  not  merit  that  for  it 
alone  we  should  alter  our  general  maxim. 

Here,  therefore,  is  a  proposition,  which  not  only  seems,  in 
itself,  simple  and  intelligible;  but,  if  a  proper  use  were  made  of 
it,  might  render  every  dispute  equally  intelligible,  and  banish 
all  that  jargon,  which  has  so  long  taken  possession  of  metaphysi- 
cal reasonings,  and  drawn  disgrace  upon  them.  All  ideas,  espe- 
cially abstract  ones,  are  naturally  faint  and  obscure:  the  mind 
has  but  a  slender  hold  of  them:  they  are  apt  to  be  confounded 
with  other  resembling  ideas;  and  when  we  have  often  employed 
any  term,  though  without  a  distinct  meaning,  we  are  ap.t  to 
imagine  it  has  a  determinate  idea  annexed  to  it,.  On  the  con- 
trary, all  impressions,  that  is,  all  sensations,  either  outward  or 
inward,  are  strong  and  vivid :  The  limits  between  them  are  more 
exactly  determined :  nor  is  it  easy  to  fall  into  any  error  or  mistake 
with  regard  to  them.  When  we  entertain,  therefore,  any  suspicion 
that  a  philosophical  term  is  employed  without  any  meaning  or 
idea  (as  is  but  too  frequent),  we  need  butenquire,  from  what  im- 
pression is  that  supposed  idea  derived ?/£n(ljl it  be  impossible  to 
^assign  any3.lbjsjvill  serve  to  confirm  our  suspicion.1  By  bririg- 

1  It  is  probable  that  no  more  was  meant  by  those,  who  denied  innate  ideas, 
than  that  all  ideas  were  copies  of  our  impressions;  though  it  must  be  confessed, 
that  the  terms,  which  they  employed,  were  not  chosen  with  such  caution,  nor 
so  exactly  denned,  as  to  prevent  all  mistakes  about  their  doctrine.'  For  what 
is  meant  by  innate?  If  innate  be  equivalent  to  natural,  then  all  the  perceptions 
and  ideas  of  the  mind  must  be  allowed  to  be  innate  or  natural,  in  whatever 
sense  we  take  the  latter  word,  whether  in  opposition  to  what  is  uncommon, 
artificial,  or  miraculous.  If  by  innate  be  meant,  contemporary  to  our  birth, 
the  dispute  seems  to  be  frivolous;  nor  is  it  worth  while  to  enquire  at  what  time 
thinking  begins,  whether  before,  at,  or  after  our  birth.  Again,  the  word  idea, 
seems  to  be  commonly  taken  in  a  very  loose  sense,  by  LOCKE  and  others;  as 
standing  for  any  of  our  perceptions,  our  sensations  and  passions,  as  welh  as 
thoughts.  Now  in  this  sense,  I  should  desire  to  know,  what  can  be  meant  by 
asserting,  that  self-love,  or  resentment  of  injuries,  or  the  passion  between  the 
sexes  is  not  innate? 

But  admitting  these  terms,  impressions  and  ideas,  in  the  sense  above  explained, 
and  understanding  by  innate,  what  is  original  or  copied  from  no  precedent 


3 12  HUME 

ing  ide*as  into  so  clear  a  light  we  may  reasonably  hope  to  re- 
move all  dispute,  which  may  arise,  concerning  their  nature  and 
reality. 

SECTION  III.    OF    THE  ASSOCIATION  OF   IDEAS 

It  is  evident,  that  there  is  a  principle  or  connexion  between  the 
different  thoughts  or  ideas  of  the  mind,  and  that,  in  their  appear- 
ance to  the  memory  or  imagination,  they  introduce  each  other 
with  a  certain  degree  of  method  and  regularity.  In  our  more 
serious  thinking  or  discourse  this  is  so  observable  that  any  par- 
ticular thought,  which  breaks  in  upon  the  regular  tract  or  chain 
of  ideas,  is  immediately  remarked  and  rejected.  And  even  in 
our  wildest  and  most  wandering  reveries,  nay  in  our  very  dreams, 
we  shall  find,  if  we  reflect,  that  the  imagination  ran  not  alto- 
gether at  adventures,  but  that  there  was  still  a 'connexion  up- 
held among  the  different  ideas,  which  succeeded  each  other. 
Were  the  loosest  and  freest  conversation  to  be  transcribed, 
there  would  immediately  be  observed  something  which  connected 
it  in  all  its  transitions.  Or  where  this  is  wanting,  the  person 
who  broke  the  thread  of  discourse  might  still  inform  you,  that 
there  had  secretly  revolved  in  his  mind  a  succession  of  thought, 
which  had  gradually  led  him  from  the  subject  of  conversation. 
Among  different  languages,  even  where  we  cannot  suspect  the 
least  connexion  or  communication,  it  is  found,  that  the  words, 
expressive  of  ideas,  the  most  compounded,  do  yet  nearly  corre- 
spond to  each  other :  a  certain  proof,  that  the  simple  ideas,  com- 
prehended in  the  compound  ones,  were  bound  together  by  some 
universal  principle,  which  had  an  equal  influence  on  all  mankind. 

Though  it  be  too  obvious  to  escape  observation,  that  different 
ideas  are  connected  together;  I  do  not  find  that  any  philosopher 
has  attempted  to  enumerate  or  class  all  the  principles  of  associa- 

perception,  then  may  we  assert  that  all  our  impressions  are  innate  and  our  ideas 
not  innate. 

To  be  ingenuous,  I  must  own  it  to  be  my  opinion,  that  MR.  LOCKE  was  be- 
trayed into  this  question  by  the  schoolmen,  who,  making  use  of  undefined  terms, 
draw  out  their  disputes  to  a  tedious  length,  without  lever  touching  the  point  in 
question.  A  like  ambiguity  and  circumlocution  seem  to  run  through  that  phi- 
losopher's reasonings  on  this  as  well  as  most  other  subjects. 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    313 

tion;  a  subject,  however,  that  seems  worthy  of  curiosity.  To  me, 
there  appear  to  be  only  three  principles  of  connexion  among 
ideas,  namely,  Resemblance,  Contiguity  in  time  or  place,  and 
Cause  or  Effect. 

That  these  principles  serve  to  connect  ideas  will  not,  I  believe, 
be  much  doubted.  A  picture  naturally  leads  our  thoughts  to 
the  original:  *  the  mention  of  one  apartment  in  a  building  natu- 
rally introduces  an  enquiry  or  discourse  concerning  the  others :  2 
and  if  we  think  of  a  wound,  we  can  scarcely  forbear  reflecting 
on  the  pain  which  follows  it.3  But  that  this  enumeration  is  com- 
plete, and  that  there  are  no  other  principles  of  association  except 
these,  may  be  difficult  to  prove  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  reader, 
or  even  to  a  man's  own  satisfaction.  All  we  can  do,  in  such  cases, 
is  to  run  over  several  instances,  and  examine  carefully  the  prin- 
ciple which  binds  the  different  thoughts  to  each  other,  never 
stopping  till  we  render  the  principle  as  general  as  possible.4 
The  more  instances  we  examine,  and  the  more  care  we  employ, 
the  more  assurance  shall  we  acquire,  that  the  enumeration, 
which  we  form  from  the  whole,  is  complete  and  entire. 

SECTION  IV.    SCEPTICAL  DOUBTS  CONCERNING 
THE  OPERATIONS  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING 

PART  I 

All  the  objects  of  human  reason  or  enquiry  may  naturally  be 
divided  into  two  kinds,  to  wit,  Relations  of  Ideas,  and  Matters 
o)  Fact.  Of  the  first  kind  are  the  sciences  of  Geometry,  Algebra, 
and  Arithmetic ;  and  in  short,  every  affirmation  which  is  either 
intuitively  or  demonstratively  certain.  That  the  square  o)  ike 
hypothenuse  is  equal  to  the  squares  oj  the  two  sides,  is  a  proposi- 
tion which  expresses  a  relation  between  these  figures.  That  three 
times  -five  is  equal  to  the  halj  of  thirty,  expresses  a  relation  be- 

1  Resemblance.  2  Contiguity.  3  Cause  and  effect. 

4  For  instance,  Contrast  or  Contrariety  is  also  a  connexion  among  Ideas;  but  it 
may,  perhaps,  be  considered  as  a  mixture  of  Causation  and  Resemblance.  Where 
two  objects  are  contrary,  the  one  destroys  the  other ;  that  is,  is  the  cau^e  of  its 
annihilation,  and  the  idea  of  the  annihilation  of  an  object  implies  the  idea 
former  existence. 


3 14  HUME 

tween  these  numbers.  Propositions  of  this  kind  are  discoverable 
by  the  mere  operation  of  thought,  without  dependence  on  what 
is  anywhere  existent  in  the  universe.  Though  there  never  were 
a  circle  or  triangle  in  nature,  the  truths  demonstrated  by  Euclid 
would  for  ever'  retain  their  certainty  and  evidence. 

Matters  of  fact,  which  are  the  second  objects  of  human  rea- 
son, are  not  ascertained  in  the  same  manner;  nor  is  our  evidence 
of  their  truth,  however  great,  of  a  like  nature  with  the  foregoing. 
The  contrary  of  every  matter  of  fact  is  still  possible;  because  it 
can  never  imply  a  contradiction,  and  is  conceived  by  the  mind 
with  the  same  facility  and  distinctness,  as  if  ever  so  conformable 
to  reality.  That  the  sun  will  not  rise  to-morrow  is  no  less  intel- 
ligible a  proposition,  and  implies  no  more  contradiction  than 
the  affirmation,  that  it  will  rise.  We  should  in  vain,  therefore, 
attempt  to  demonstrate  its  falsehood.  Were  it  demonstratively 
false,  it  would  imply  a  contradiction,  and  could  never  be  dis- 
tinctly conceived  by  the  mind. 

It  may,  therefore,  be  a  subject  worthy  of  curiosity,  to  enquire 
what  is  the  nature  of  that  evidence  which  assures  us  of  any  real 
existence  and  matter  of  fact,  beyond  the  present  testimony  of 
our  senses,  or  the  records  of  our  memory.  This  part  of  philosophy, 
it  is  observable,  has  been  little  cultivated,  either  by  the  ancients 
or  moderns ;  and  therefore  our  doubts  and  errors,  in  the  prose- 
cution of  so  important  an  enquiry,  may  be  the  more  excusable ; 
while  we  march  through  such  difficult  paths  without  any  guide 
or  direction.  They  may  even  prove  useful,  by  exciting  curiosity, 
and  destroying  that  implicit  faith  and  security,  which  is  the  bane 
of  all  reasoning  and  free  enquiry.  The  discovery  of  defects  in 
the  common  philosophy,  if  any  such  there  be,  will  not,  I  presume, 
be  a  discouragement,  but  rather  an  incitement,  as  is  usual,  to 
attempt  something  more  full  and  satisfactory  than  has  yet  been 
proposed  to  the  public. 

All  reasonings  concerning  matter  of  fact  seem  to  be  founded 
on  the  relation  of  Cause  and  Effect.  By  means  of  that  relation 
alone  we  can  go  beyond  the  evidence  of  our  memory  and  senses. 
If  you  were  to  ask  a  man,  why  he  believes  any  matter  of  fact, 
which  is  absent ;  for  instance,  that  his  friend  is  in  the  country,  or 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    315 

in  France;  he  would  give  you  a  reason;  and  this  reason  would 
be  some  other  fact;  as  a  letter  received  from  him,  or  the  know- 
ledge of  his  former  resolutions  and  promises.  A  man  finding  a 
watch  or  any  other  machine  in  a  desert  island,  would  conclude 
that  there  had  once  been  men  in  that  island.  All  our  reasonings 
concerning  fact  are  of  the  same  nature.  And  here  it  is  constantly 
supposed  that  there  is  a  connexion  beween  the  present  fact 
and  that  which  is  inferred  from  it.  Were  there  nothing  to  bind 
them  together,  the  inference  would  be  entirely  precarious.  The 
hearing  of  an  articulate  voice  and  rational  discourse  in  the  dark 
assures  us  of  the  presence  of  some  person :  Why  ?  because  these 
are  the  effects  of  the  human  make  and  fabric,  and  closely  con- 
nected with  it.  If  we  anatomize  all  the  other  reasonings  of  this 
nature,  we  shall  find  that  they  are  founded  on  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect,  and  that  this  relation  is  either  near  or  remote, 
direct  or  collateral.  Heat  and  light  are  collateral  effects  of  fire, 
and  the  one  effect  may  justly  be  inferred  from  the  other. 

If  we  would  satisfy  ourselves,  therefore,  concerning  the  nature 
of  that  evidence,  which  assures  us  of  matters  of  fact,  we  .must 
enquire  how  we  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  cause  and  effect. 

I  shall  venture  to  affirm,  as  a  general  proposition,  which  ad- 
mits of  no  exception,  that  the  knowledge  of  this  relation  is  not, 
in  any  instance,  attained  by  reasonings  a  priori;  but  arises  en- 
tirely from  experience,  when  we  find  that  any  particular  objects 
are  constantly  conjoined  with  each  other.  Let  an  object  be  pre- 
sented to  a  man  of  ever  so  strong  natural  reason  and  abilities; 
if  that  object  be  entirely  new  to  him,  he  will  not  be  able,  by  the 
most  accurate  examination  of  its  sensible  qualities,  to  discover 
any  of  its  causes  or  effects.  Adam,  though  his  rational  faculties 
be  supposed,  at  the  very  first,  entirely  perfect,  could  not  h 
inferred  from  the  fluidity  and  transparency  of  water  that  it 
would  suffocate  him,  or  from  the  light  and  warmth  of  fire  that 
it  would  consume  him.  No  object  ever  discovers,  by  the  qualities 
which  appear  to  the  senses,  either  the  causes  which  produced  it, 
or  the  effects  which  will  arise  from  it ;  nor  can  our  reason,  unas- 
sisted by  experience,  ever  draw  any  inference  concerning  real 
existence  and  matter  of  fact. 


3i6  HUME 

This  proposition,  that  causes  and  effects  are  discoverable,  not 
by  reason  but  by  experience,  will  readily  be  admitted  with  regard 
to  such  objects,  as  we  remember  to  have  once  been  altogether 
unknown  to  us;  since  we  must  be  conscious  of  the  utter  inability, 
which  we  then  lay  under,  of  foretelling  what  would  arise  from 
them.  Present  two  smooth  pieces  of  marble  to  a  man  who  has  no 
tincture  of  natural  philosophy;  he  will  never  discover  that  they 
will  adhere  together  in  such  a  manner  as  to  require  great  force 
to  separate  them  in  a  direct  line,  while  they  make  so  small  a 
resistance  to  a  lateral  pressure.  Such  events,  as  bear  little  analogy 
to  the  common  course  of  nature,  are  also  readily  confessed  to  be 
known  only  by  experience;  nor  does  any  man  imagine  that  the 
explosion  of  gunpowder,  or  the  attraction  of  a  loadstone,  could 
ever  be  discovered  by  arguments  a  priori.  In  like  manner,  when 
an  effect  is  supposed  to  depend  upon  an  intricate  machinery  or 
secret  structure  of  parts,  we  make  no  difficulty  in  attributing  all 
our  knowledge  of  it  to  experience.  Who  will  assert  that  he  can 
give  the  ultimate  reason,  why  milk  or  bread  is  proper  nourish- 
ment for  a  man,  not  for  a  lion  or  a  tiger? 

But  the  same  truth  may  not  appear,  at  first  sight,  to  have  the 
same  evidence  with  regard  to  events,  which  have  become  familiar 
to  us  from  our  first  appearance  in  the  world,  which  bear  a  close 
analogy  to  the  whole  course  of  nature,  and  which  are  supposed 
to  depend  on  the  simple  qualities  of  objects,  without  any  secret 
structure  of  parts.  We  are  apt  to  imagine  that  we  could  dis- 
cover these  effects  by  the  mere  operation  of  our  reason,  without 
experience.  We  fancy,  that  were  we  brought  on  a  sudden  into 
this  world,  we  could  at  first  have  inferred  that  one  Billiard-ball 
would  communicate  motion  to  another  upon  impulse;  and  that 
we  needed  not  to  have  waited  for  the  event,  in  order  to  pronounce 
with  certainty  concerning  it.  Such  is  the  influence  of  custom, 
that,  where  it  is  strongest,  it  not  only  covers  our  natural  ignorance, 
but  even  conceals  itself,  and  seems  not  to  take  place,  merely 
because  it  is  found  in  the  highest  degree. 

But  to  convince  us  that^all  the  laws  of  nature^  and  all  the 
operations  of  bodies  without  exception,  are  known  only  by  ex- 
perience, the  following  reflections  may,  perhaps,  suffice.  Were 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    317 

any  object  presented  to  us,  and  were  we  required  to  pronounce 
concerning  the  effect,  which  will  result  from  it,  without  consulting 
past  observation;  after  what  manner,  I  beseech  you,  must  the 
mind  proceed  in  this  operation  ?  It  must  invent  or  imagine  some 
event,  which  it  ascribes  to  the  object  as  its  effect;  and  it  is  plain 
that  this  invention  must  be  entirely  arbitrary.  The  mind  can 
never  possibly  find  the  effect  in  the  supposed  cause,  by  the  most 
accurate  scrutiny  and  examination.  For  the  effect  is  totally 
different  from  the  cause,  and  consequently  can  never  be  dis- 
covered in  it.  Motion  in  the  second  Billiard-ball  is  a  quite  dis- 
tinct event  from  motion  in  the  first;  nor  is  there  anything  in  the 
one  to  suggest  the  smallest  hint  of  the  other.  A  stone  or  piece 
of  metal  raised  into  the  air,  and  left  without  any  support,  im- 
mediately falls :  but  to  consider  the  matter  a  priori,  is  there  any- 
thing we  discover  in  this  situation  which  can  beget  the  idea  of  a 
downward,  rather  than  an  upward,  or  any  other  motion,  in  the 
stone  or  metal? 

And  as  the  first  imagination  or  invention  of  a  particular  effect, 
in  all  natural  operations,  is  arbitrary,  where  we  consult  not  ex- 
perience ;  so  must  we  also  esteem  the  supposed  tie  or  connexion 
between  the  cause  and  effect,  which  binds  them  together,  and 
renders  it  impossible  that  any  other  effect  could  result  from  the 
operation  of  that  cause.  When  I  see,  for  instance,  a  Billiard- 
ball  moving  in  a  straight  line  towards  another;  even  suppose 
motion  in  the  second  ball  should  by  accident  be  suggested  to 
me,  as  the  result  of  their  contact  or  impulse;  may  I  not  conceive, 
that  a  hundred  different  events  might  as  well  follow  from  that 
cause  ?  May  not  both  these  balls  remain  at  absolute  rest  ?  May 
not  the  first  ball  return  in  a  straight  line,  or  leap  off  from  the 
second  in  any  line  or  direction  ?  All  these  suppositions  are  con- 
sistent and  conceivable.  Why  then  should  we  give  the  prefer- 
ence to  one,  which  is  no  more  consistent  or  conceivable  than  the 
rest?  All  our  reasonings  a  priori  will  never  be  able  to  show 
us  any  foundation  for  this  preference. 

In  a  word,  then,  every  effect  is  a  distinct  event  from  its  cause. 
It  could  not  therefore,  be  discovered  in  the  cause,  and  the  first 
invention  or  conception  of  ii,  a  priori,  must  be  entirely  arbitrary. 


3i8  HUME 

Ajji^ven  after  it  is  suggested,  the  conjunction  of  it  with  the 

/cause  must  appear  equally  arbitrary;  since  there  are  always 
many  other  effects,  which,  to  reason,  must  seem  fully  as  consistent 
and  natural.  In  vain,  therefore,  should  we  pretend  to  determine 
any  single  event,  or  infer  any  cause  or  effect,  without  the  assist- 
ance of  observation  and  experience. 

Hence  we  may  discover  the  reason  why  no  philosopher,  who 
is  rational  and  modest,  has  ever  pretended  to  assign  the  ultimate 
cause  of  any  natural  operation,  or  to  show  distinctly  the  action 
of  that  power,  which  produces  any  single  effect  in  the  universe. 
It  is  confessed,  that  the  utmost  effort  of  human  reason  is  to 
reduce  the  principles,  productive  of  natural  phenomena,  to  a 
greater  simplicity,  and  to  resolve  the  many  particular  effects 
into  a  few  general  causes,  by  means  of  reason™  ff^f  mm  analogy, 
experienceT  and  observation.  But  as  to  the  causes  of  these  gen- 
eral causes,  we  should  in  vain  attempt  their  discovery ;  nor  shall 
we  ever  be  able  to  satisfy  ourselves,  by  any  particular  explica- 
tion of  them.  These  ultimate  springs  and  principles  are  totally 
shut  up  from  human  curiosity  and  enquiry.  Elasticity,  gravity, 
cohesion  of  parts,  communication  of  motion  by  impulse;  these 
are  probably  the  ultimate  causes  and  principles  which  we  ever 
discover  in  nature ;  and  we  may  esteem  ourselves  sufficiently 
happy,  if,  by  accurate  enquiry  and  reasoning,  we  can  trace  up 
the  particular  phenomena  to,  or  near  to,  these  general  prin- 
ciples. The  most  perfect  philosophy  of  the  natural  kind  only 
staves  off  our  ignorance  a  little  longer :  as  perhaps  the  most  per- 
fect philosophy  of  the  moral  or  metaphysical  kind  serves  only 
to  discover  larger  portions  of  it.  Thus  the  observation  of  human 
blindness  and  weakness  is  the  result  of  all  philosophy,  and  meets 
us  at  every  turn,  in  spite  of  our  endeavours  to  elude  or  avoid  it. 

Nor  is  geometry,  when  taken  into  the  assistance  of  natural 
philosophy,  even  able  to  remedy  this  defect,  or  lead  us  into  the 
knowledge  of  ultimate  causes,  by  all  that  accuracy  of  reasoning 
for  which  it  is  so  justly  celebrated.  Every  part  of  mixed  mathe- 
matics proceeds  upon  the  supposition  that  certain  laws  are  estab- 
lished by  nature  in  her  operations;  and  abstract  reasonings 
are  employed,  either  to  assist  experience  in  the  discovery  of  these 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    319 

laws,  or  to  determine  their  influence  in  particular  instances, 
where  it  depends  upon  any  precise  degree  of  distance  and 
quantity.  Thus,  it  is  a  law  of  motion,  discovered  by  experience, 
that  the  moment  or  force  of  any  body  in  motion  is  in  the  com- 
pound ratio  or  proportion  of  its  solid  contents  and  its  velocity; 
and  consequently,  that  a  small  force  may  remove  the  greatest 
obstacle  or  raise  the  greatest  weight,  if,  by  any  contrivance  or 
machinery,  we.  can  increase  the  velocity  of  that  force,  so  as  to 
make  it  an  overmatch  for  its  antagonist.  Geometry  assists  Us 
in  the  application  of  this  law,  by  giving  us  the  just  dimensions 
of  all  the  parts  and  figures  which  can  enter  into  any  species  of 
machine ;  but  still  the  discovery  of  the  law  itself  is  owing  merely 
to  experience,  and  all  the  abstract  reasonings  in  the  world  could 
never  lead  us  one  step  towards  the  knowledge  of  it.  When  we 
reason  a  priori,  and  consider  merely  any  object  or  cause,  as  it 
appears  to  the  mind,  independent  of  all  observation,  it  never 
could  suggest  to  us  the  notion  of  any  distinct  object,  such  as  its 
effect;  much  less,  show  us  the  inseparable  and  inviolable  con- 
nexion between  them.  A  man  must  be  very  sagacious  "who  could 
discover  by  reasoning  that  crystal  is  the  effect  of  heat,  and  ice 
of  cold,  without  being  previously  acquainted  with  the  operation 
of  these  qualities. 

PART  II 

But  we  have  not  yet  attained  any  tolerable  satisfaction  with 
regard  to  the  question  first  proposed.  Each  solution  still  gives 
rise  to  a  new  question  as  difficult  as  the  foregoing,  and  leads  us 
on  to  farther  enquiries.  When  it  is  asked,  What  is  the  nature  of 
all  our  reasonings  concerning  matter  of  fact  ?  the  proper  answer 
seems  to  be,  that  they  are  founded  on  the  relation  of  cause  and 
effect.  When  again  it  is  asked,  What  is  the  foundation  of  all  our 
reasonings  and  conclusions  concerning  that  relation  ?  it  may  be 
replied  in  one  word,  Experience.  But  if  we  still  carry  on  our 
sifting  humour,  and  ask,  What  is  the  foundation  of  all  conclusions 
from  experience  ?  this  implies  a  new  question,  which  may  be  of 
more  difficult  solution  and  explication.  Philosophers,  that  give 
themselves  airs  of  superior  wisdom  and  sufficiency,  have  a  hard 


320  HUME 

task  when  they  encounter  persons  of  inquisitive  dispositions, 
who  push  them  from  every  corner  to  which  they  retreat,  and 
who  are  sure  at  last  to  bring  them  to  some  dangerous  dilemma. 
The  best  expedient  to  prevent  this  confusion,  is  to  be  modest 
in  our  pretentions;  and  even  to  discover  the  difficulty  ourselves 
before  it  is  objected  to  us.  By  this  means,  we  may  make  a  kind 
of  merit  of  our  very  ignorance. 

I  shall  content  myself,  in  this  section,  with  an- easy  task,  and 
shall  pretend  only  to  give  a  negative  answer  to  the  question  here 
proposed^  I  say  then,  that,  even  after  we  have  experience  of  the 
operations  of  cause  and  effect,  our  conclusions  from  that  expe- 
rience are  not  founded  on  reasoning,  or  any  process  of  the  under- 
standing. This  answer  we  must  endeavour  both  to  explain  and 
to  defend. 

It  must  certainly  be  allowed,  that  nature  has  kept  us  at  a  great 
distance  from  all  her  secrets,  and  has  afforded  us  only  the  know- 
ledge of  a  few  superficial  qualities  of  objects;  while  she  conceals 
from  us  those  powers  and  principles  on  which  the  influence 
of  those  objects  entirely  depends.  i'Our  senses  inform  us  of  the 
colour,  weight,  and  consistence  of  bread;  but  neither  sense  nor 
reason  can  ever  inform  us  of  those  qualities  which  fit  it  for  the 
nourishment  and  support  of  a  human  body.  Sight  or  feeling 
conveys  an  idea  of  the  actual  motion  of  bodies;  but  as  to  that 
wonderful  force  or  power,  which  would  carry  on  a  moving  body 
for  ever  in  a  continued  change  of  place,  and  which  bodies  never 
lose  but  by  communicating  it  to  others;  of  this  we  cannot 
form  the  most  distant  conception.  But  notwithstanding  this 
ignorance  of  natural  powers  and  principles,  we  always  presume, 
when  we  see  like  sensible  qualities,  that  they  have  like  secret 
powers,  and  expect  that  effects,  similar  to  those  which  we  have 
experienced,  will  follow  from  them.  If  a  body  of  ^ikg) colour  and 
consistence  with  that  bread,  which  we  have  formerly  eat,  be 
presented  to  us,  we  make  no  scruple  of  repeating  the  experiment, 
and  foresee,  with  certainty,  lSe)iourishment  and  support.  Now 
^:~  is  a  process  of  the  rrv^  ™  Bought,  of  wVnVVi  T  wrmlH  will- 
ingly know  the  foundation. '( It  is  allowed  on  aft  hands  that  there 
is  no  known  connexion  between  the  sensible  qualities  and  the 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    321 

secret  powers ;  and  consequently,  that  the  mind  is  not  led  to  form 
such  a  conclusion  concerning  their  constant  and  regular  con- 
junction, by  anything  which  it  knows  of  their  nature.  As  to 
past  Experience,  it  can  be  allowed  to  give  direct  and  certain  in- 
formation of  those  precise  objects  only,  and  that  precise  period 
of  time,  which  fell  under  its  cognizance :  but  why  this  experience 
should  be  extended  to  future  times,  and  to  other  objects,  which, 
for  aught  we  know,  may  be  only  in  appearance  similar;  this  is 
the  main  question  on  which  I  would  insist.  The  bread,  which  I 
formerly  eat,  nourished  me;  that  is,  a  body  of  such  sensible 
qualities  was,  at  that  time,  endued  with  such  secret  powers:  but 
does  it  follow,  that  other  bread  must  also  nourish  me  at  another 
time,  and  that  like  sensible  qualities  must  always  be  attended 
with  like  secret  powers?  The  consequence  seems  nowise  neces- 
sary. At  least,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  there  is  here  a  con- 
sequence drawn  by  the  mind ^ that  there  is  a  certain  step  taken; 
a  process  of  thought,  and  an  inference,  which  wants  to  be  ex- 
plained. These  two  propositions  are  far  from  being  the  same,  / 
have  found  that  such  an  object  has  always  been  attended  with  such 
an  effect,  and  /  foresee,  that  other  objects,  which  are,  in  appear- 
ance, similar,  will  be  attended  with  similar  effects.  I  shall  allow, 
if  you  please,  that  the  one  proposition  may  justly  be  inferred 
from  the  other:  I  know,  in  fact,  that  it  always  is  inferred.  But 
Cif  you  insist  that  the  inference  is  made  by  a  chain  of  reasoning, 
I  desire  you  to  produce  that  reasoning. )  The  connexion  between 
these  propositions  is  not  intuitive.  There  is  required  a  medium, 
which  may  enable  the  mind  to  draw  such  an  inference,  if  indeed 
it  be  drawn  by  reasoning  and  argument.  What  that  medium  is, 
I  must  confess,  passes  my  comprehension;  and  it  is  incumbent 
on  these  to  produce  it,  who  assert  that  it  really  exists,  and  is  the 
origin  of  all  our  conclusions  concerning  matter  of  fact. 

This  negative  argument  must  certainly,  in  process  of  time, 
become  altogether  convincing,  if  many  penetrating  and  able 
philosophers  shall  turn  their  enquiries  this  way  and  no  one  be 
ever  able  to  discover  any  connecting  proposition  or  intermediate 
step,  which  supports  the  understanding  in  this  conclusion.  But 
as  the  question  is  yet  new,  every  reader  may  not  trust  so  far  to 


322  HUME 

his  own  penetration,  as  to  conclude,  because  an  argument  es- 
capes his  enquiry,  that  therefore  it  does  not  really  exist.  For  this 
reason  it  may  be  requisite  to  venture  upon  a  more  difficult  task; 
and  enumerating  all  the  branches  of  human  knowledge,  endeav- 
our to  show  that  none  of  them  can  afford  such  an  argument. 

All  reasonings  may  be  divided  into  two  kinds,  namely,  de- 
monstrative reasoning,  or  that  concerning  relations  of  ideas,  and 
moral  reasoning,  or  that  concerning  matter  of  fact  and  existence. 
That  there  are  no  demonstrative  arguments  in  the  case  seems 
evident;  since  it  implies  no  contradiction  that  the  course  of  nature 
may  change,  and  that  an  object,  seemingly  like  those  which  we 
have  experienced,  may  be  attended  with  different  or  contrary 
effects.  May  I  not  clearly  and  distinctly  conceive  that  a  body, 
falling  from  the  clouds,  and  which,  in  all  other  respects,  resem- 
bles snow,  has  yet  the  taste  of  salt  or  feeling  of  fire?  Is  there 
any  more  intelligible  proposition  than  to  affirm,  that  all  the  trees 
will  flourish  in  December  and  January,  and  decay  in  May  and 
June?  Now  whatever  is  intelligible,  and  can  be  distinctly  con- 
ceived, implies  no  contradiction,  and  can  never  be  proved  false 
by  any  demonstrative  argument  or  abstract  reasoning  a  priori. 

If  we  be,  therefore,  engaged  by  arguments  to  put  trust  in  past 
experience,  and  make  it  the  standard  of  our  future  judgement, 
these  arguments  must  be  probable  only,  or  such  as  regard  matter 
of  fact  and  real  existence,  according  to  the  division  above  men- 
tioned. But  that  there  is  no  argument  of  this  kind,  must  appear, 
if  our  explication  of  that  species  of  reasoning  be  admitted  as 
solid  and  satisfactory.  We  have  said,  that  all  arguments  concern- 
ing existence  are  founded  on  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect; 
that  our  knowledge  of  that  relation  is  derived  entirely  from 
experience;  and  that  all  our  experimental  conclusions  proceed 
upon  the  supposition  that  the  future  will  be  conformable  to  the 
past.  To  endeavour,  therefore,  the  proof  of  this  last  supposi- 
tion by  probable  arguments,  or  arguments  regarding  existence, 
must  be  evidently  going  in  a  circle,  and  taking  that  for  granted, 
which  is  the  very  point  in  question. 

In  reality,  all  arguments  from  experience  are  founded  on  the 
similarity  which  we  discover  among  natural  objects,  and  by  which 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    323 

we  are  induced  to  expect  effects  similar  to  those  which  we  have 
found  to  follow  from  such  objects.  And  though  none  but  a  fool 
or  madman  will  ever  pretend  to  dispute  the  authority  of  experi- 
ence, or  to  reject  that  .great  guide  of  human  life,  it  may  surely 
be  allowed  a  philosopher  to  have  so  much  curiosity  at  least  as 
to  examine  the  principle  of  human  nature,  which  gives  this 
mighty  authority  to  experience,  and  makes  us  draw  advantage 
from  that  similarity  which  nature  has  placed  among  different 
objects.  From  causes  which  appear  similar  we  expect  similar 
^effects.  This  is  the  sum  of  all  our  experimental  conclusions. 
Now  it  seems  evident  that,  if  this  conclusion  were  formed  by 
reason,  it  would  be  as  perfect  at  first,  and  upon  one  instance, 
as  after  ever  so  long  a  course  of  experience.  But  the  case  is  far 
otherwise.  Nothing  so  like  as  eggs;  yet  no  one,  on  account  of 
this  appearing  similarity,  expects  the  same  taste  and  relish  in  all 
of  them.  It  is  only  after  a  long  course  of  uniform  experiments 
in  any  kind,  that  we  attain  a  firm  reliance  and  security  with 
regard  to  a  particular  event.  Now  where  is  that  process  of  rea- 
soning which,  from  one  instance,  draws  a  conclusion,  so  different 
from  that  which  it  infers  from  a  hundred  instances  that  are 
nowise  different  from  that  single  one  ?  This  question  I  propose 
as  much  for  the  sake  of  information,  as  with  an  intention  of 
raising  difficulties.  I  cannot  find,  I  cannot  imagine  any  such 
reasoning.  But  I  keep  my  mind  still  open  to  instruction,  if  any 
one  will  vouchsafe  to  bestow  it  on  me. 

Should  it  be  said,  that,  from  a  number  of  uniform  experiments, 
we  infer  a  connexion  between  the  sensible  qualities  and  the  secret 
powers;  this,  I  must  confess,  seems  the  same  difficulty,  co  .ched 
in  different  terms.  The  question  still  recurs,  on  what  process  of 
argument  this  inference  is  founded  ?  Where  is  the  medium,  the 
interposing  ideas,  which  join  propositions  so  very  wide  of  each 
other?  It  is  confessed  that  the  colour,  consistence,  and  other 
sensible  qualities  of  bread  appear  not,  of  themselves,  to  have 
any  connexion  with  the  secret  powers  of  nourishment  and  sup- 
port. For  otherwise  we  could  infer  these  secret  powers  from 
the  first  appearance  of  these  sensible  qualities,  without  the  aid 
of  experience;  contrary  to  the  sentiment  of  all  philosophers,  and 


324  HUME 

contrary  to  plain  matter  of  fact.  Here,  then,  is  our  natural  state 
of  ignorance  with  regard  to  the  powers  and  influence  of  all  ob- 
jects. How  is  this  remedied  by  experience  ?  It  only  shows  us  a 
number  of  uniform  effects,  resulting  from  certain  objects,  and 
teaches  us  that  those  particular  objects,  at  that  particular  time, 
were  endowed  with  such  powers  and  forces.  When  a  new  object, 
endowed  with  similar  sensible  qualities,  is  produced,  we  expect 
similar  powers  and  forces,  and  look  for  a  jike  effect.  From  a 
body  ofjikd  colour  and  consistence  with  bread  we  expect  (Jike 
nourishment  and  support.  But  this  surely  is  a  step  or  progress 
of  the  mind,  which  wants  to  be  explained.  When  a  man  says, 
/  have  found,  in  all  past  instances,  such  sensible  qualities  con- 
joined with  such  secret  powers,  and  when  he  says,  Similar  sen- 
sible qualities  will  always  be  conjoined  with  similar  secret  powers, 
he  is  not  guilty  of  a  tautology,  nor  are  these  propositions  in  any 
respect  the  same.  You  say  that  the  one  proposition  is  an  infer- 
ence from  the  other.  But  you  must  confess  that  the  inference 
is  not  intuitive;  neither  is  it  demonstrative.  Of  what  nature  is 
it,  then  ?  To  say  it  is  experimental,  is  begging  the  question.  For 
all  inferences  from  experience  suppose,  as  their  foundation, 
that  the  future  will  resemble  the  past,  and  that  similar  powers 
will  be  conjoined  with  similar  sensible  qualities.  If  there  be  any 
suspicion  that  the  course  of  nature  may  change,  and  that  the  past 
may  be  no  rule  for  the  future,  all  experience  becomes  useless, 
and  can  give  rise  to  no  inference  or  conclusion.  It  is  impossible, 
therefore,  that  any  arguments  from  experience  can  prove  this 
resemblance  of  the  past  to  the  future ;  since  all  these  arguments 
are  founded  on  the  supposition  of  that  resemblance.  Let  the 
course  of  things  be  allowed  hitherto  ever  so  regular;  that  alone, 
without  some  new  argument  or  inference,  proves  not  that,  for 
the  future,  it  will  continue  so.  In  vain  do  you  pretend  to  have 
learned  the  nature  of  bodies  from  your  past  experience.  Their 
secret  nature,  and  consequently  all  their  effects  and  influence, 
may  change,  without  any  change  in  their  sensible  qualities. 
This  happens  sometimes,  and  with  regard  to  some  objects: 
why  may  it  not  happen  always,  and  with  regard  to  all  objects  ? 
What  logic,  what  process  of  argument  secures  you  against  this 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    325 

supposition?  My  practice,  you  say,  refutes  my  doubts.  But 
you  mistake  the  purport  of  my  question.  As  an  agent,  I  am 
quite  satisfied  in  the  point;  but  as  a  philosopher,  who  has  some 
share  of  curiosity,  I  will  not  say  scepticism,  I  want  to  learn  the 
foundation  of  this  inference.  No  reading,  no  enquiry  has  yet 
been  able  to  remove  my  difficulty,  or  give  me  satisfaction  in  a 
matter  of  such  importance.  Can  I  do  better  than  propose  the 
difficulty  to  the  public,  even  though,  perhaps,  I  have  small  hopes 
of  obtaining  a  solution?  We  shall,  at  least,  by  this  means,  be 
sensible  of  our  ignorance,  if  we  do  not  augment  our  knowledge. 

I  must  confess  that  a  man  is  guilty  of  unpardonable  arro- 
gance who  concludes,  because  an  argument  has  escaped  his  own 
investigation,  that  therefore  it  does  not  really  exist.  I  must 
also  confess  that,  though  all  the  learned,  for  several  ages,  should 
have  employed  themselves  in  fruitless  search  upon  any  subject, 
it  may  still,  perhaps,  be  rash  to  conclude  positively  that  the 
subject  must,  therefore,  pass  all  human  comprehension.  Even 
though  we  examine  all  the  sources  of  our  knowledge,  and  con- 
clude them  unfit  for  such  a  subject,  there,  may  still  remain  a 
suspicion,  that  the  enumeration  is  not  complete,  or  the  examina- 
tion not  accurate.  But  with  regard  to  the  present  subject,  there 
are  some  considerations  which  seem  to  remove  all  this  accusa- 
tion of  arrogance  or  suspicion  of  mistake. 

It  is  certain  that  the  most  ignorant  and  stupid  peasants,  nay 
infants,  nay  even  brute  beasts,  improve  by  experience,  and 
learn  the  qualities  of  natural  objects,  by  observing  the  effects 
which  result  from  them.  When  a  child  has  felt  the  sensation 
of  pain  from  touching  the  flame  of  a  candle,  he  will  be  careful 
not  to  put  his  hand  near  any  candle;  but  will  expect  a  similar 
effect  from  a  cause  which  is  similar  in  its  sensible  qualities  and 
appearance.  If  you  assert,  therefore,  that  the  understanding  of 
the  child  is  led  into  this  conclusion  by  any  process  of  argument 
or  ratiocination,  I  may  justly  require  you  to  produce  that  argu- 
ment; nor  have  you  any  pretense  to  refuse  so  equitable  a  demand. 
You  cannot  say  that  the  argument  is  abstruse,  and  may  possibly 
escape  your  enquiry;  since  you  confess  that  it  is  obvious  to  the 
capacity  of  a  mere  infant.  If  you  hesitate,  therefore,  a  moment, 


326  HUME 

or  if,  after  reflection,  you  produce  any  intricate  or  profound 
argument,  you,  in  a  manner,  give  up  the  question,  and  confess 
that  it  is  not  reasoning  which  engages  us  to  suppose  the  past 
resembling  the  future,  and  to  expect  similar  effects  from  causes 
which  are,  to  appearance,  similar.  This  is  the  proposition 
which  I  intended  to  enforce  in  the  present  section.  If  I  be  right, 
I  pretend  not  to  have  made  any  mighty  discovery.  And  if  I  be 
wrong,  I  must  acknowledge  myself  to  be  indeed  a  very  backward 
scholar;  since  I  cannot  now  discover  an  argument  which,  it  seems, 
was  perfectly  familiar  to  me  long  before  I  was  out  of  my  cradle. 


SECTION    VII.     OF    THE    IDEA    OF    NECESSARY 
CONNEXION 

PART  I 

The  great  advantage  of  the  mathematical  sciences  above  the 
moral  consists  in  this,  that  the  ideas  of  the  former,  being  sensible, 
are  always  clear  and  determinate,  the  smallest  distinction  be- 
tween them  is  immediately  perceptible,  and  the  same  terms  are 
still  expressive  of  the  same  ideas,  without  ambiguity  or  variation. 
An  oval  is  never  mistaken  for  a  circle,  nor  an  hyperbola  for  an 
ellipsis.  The  isosceles  and  scalenum  are  distinguished  by  bounda- 
ries more  exact  than  vice  and  virtue,  right  and  wrong.  If  any 
term  be  denned  in  geometry,  the  mind  readily,  of  itself,  substi- 
tutes, on  all  occasions,  the  definition  for  the  term  defined.  Or 
even  when  no  definition  is  employed,  the  object  itself  may  be 
presented  to  the  senses,  and  by  that  means  be  steadily  and  clearly 
apprehended/  But  the  finer  sentiments  of  the  mind,  the  opera- 
tions of  the  understanding,  the  various  agitations  of  the  passions, 
though  really  in  themselves  distinct,  easily  escape  us,  when  sur- 
veyed by  reflection;  nor  is  it  in  our  power  to  recall  the  original 
object,  as  often  as  we  have  occasion  to  contemplate  it.  Am- 
biguity, by  this  means,  is  gradually  introduced  into  our  reason- 
ings; similar  objects  are  readily  taken  to  be  the  same;  and  the 
conclusion  becomes  at  last  very  wide  of  the  premises. 

One  may  safely,'  however,  affirm,  that,  if  we  consider  these 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    327 

sciences  in  a  proper  light,  their  advantages  and  disadvantages 
nearly  compensate  each  other,  and  reduce  both  of  them  to  a 
state  of  equality.  If  the  mind,  with  greater  facility,  retains  the 
ideas  of  geometry  clear  and  determinate,  it  must  carry  on  a 
much  longer  and  more  intricate  chain  of  reasoning,  and  com- 
pare ideas  much  wider  of  each  other,  in  order  to  reach  the 
abstruser  truths  of  that  science.  And  if  moral  ideas  are  apt, 
without  extreme  care,  to  fall  into  obscurity  and  confusion,  the 
inferences  are  always  much  shorter  in  these  disquisitions,  and 
the  intermediate  steps,  which  lead  to  the  conclusion,  much  fewer 
than  in  the  sciences  which  treat  of  quantity  and  number.  In 
reality,  there  is  scarcely  a  proposition  in  Euclid  so  simple,  as 
not  to  consist  of  more  parts,  than  are  to  be  found  in  any  moral 
reasoning  which  runs  not  into  chimera  and  conceit.  Where  we 
trace  the  principles  of  the  human  mind  through  a  few  steps,  we 
may  be  very  well  satisfied  with  our  progress;  considering  how 
soon  nature  throws  a  bar  to  all  our  enquiries  concerning  causes, 
and  reduces  us  to  an  acknowledgment  of  our  ignorance.  The 
chief  obstacle,  therefore,  to  our  improvement  in  the  moral  or 
metaphysical  sciences  is  the  obscurity  of  the  ideas,  and  ambiguity 
of  the  terms.  The  principal  difficulty  in  the  mathematics  is  the 
length  of  inferences  and  compass  of  thought,  requisite  to  the 
forming  of  any  conclusion.  And,  perhaps,  our  progress  in  natural 
philosophy  is  chiefly  retarded  by  the  want  of  proper  experiments 
and  phenomena,  which  are  often  discovered  by  chance,  and 
cannot  always  be  found,  when  requisite,  even  by  the  most  dili- 
gent and  prudent  enquiry.  As  moral  philosophy  seems  hitherto 
to  have  received  less  improvement  than  either  geometry  or 
physics,  we  may  conclude,  that,  if  there  be  any  difference  in 
this  respect  among  these  sciences,  the  difficulties,  which  obstruct 
the  progress  of  the  former,  require  superior  care  and  capacity 
to  be  surmounted. 

There  are  no  ideas,  which  occur  in  metaphysics,  more  obscure 
and  uncertain,  than  those  of  power,  force,  energy  or  necessary 
connexion,  of  which  it  is  every  moment  necessary  for  us  to  treat 
in  all  our  disquisitions.  We  shall,  therefore,  endeavour,  in  this 
section,  to  fix,  if  possible,  the  precise  meaning  of  these  terms, 


328  HUME 

and  thereby  remove  some  part  of  that  obscurity,  which  is  so 
much  complained  of  in  this  species  of  philosophy. 

It  seems  a  proposition,  which  will  not  admit  of  much  dispute, 
that  all  our  ideas  are  nothing  but  copies  of  our  impressions,  or, 
in  other  words,  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  think  of  any  thing, 
which  we  have  not  antecedently  felt,  either  by  our  external  or 
internal  senses.  I  have  endeavoured  *  to  explain  and  prove  this 
proposition,  and  have  expressed  my  hopes,  that,  by  a  proper 
application  of  it,  men  may  reach  a  greater  clearness  and  precision 
in  philosophical  reasonings,  than  what  they  have  hitherto  been 
able  to  attain.  Complex  ideas  may,  perhaps,  be  well  known  by 
definition,  which  is  nothing  but  an  enumeration  of  those  parts 
I  or  simple  ideas,  that  compose  them.  But  when  we  have  pushed 
up  definitions  to  the  most  simple  ideas,  and  find  still  some  am- 
'biguity  and  obscurity;  what  resource  are  we  then  possessed  of? 
By  what  invention  can  we  throw  light  upon  these  ideas,  and 
render  them  altogether  precise  and  determinate  to  our  intellectual 
view?  Produce  the  impressions  or  original  sentiments,  from 
which  the  ideas  are  copied.  These  impressions  are  all  strong 
and  sensible.  They  admit  not  of  ambiguity.  They  are  not  only 
placed  in  a  full  light  themselves,  but  may  throw  light  on  their 
correspondent  ideas,  which  lie  in  obscurity.  And  by  this  means, 
we  may,  perhaps,  attain  a  new  microscope  or  species  of  optics, 
by  which,  in  the  moral  sciences,  the  most  minute  and  most 
simple  ideas  may  be  so  enlarged  as  to  fall  readily  under  our 
apprehension,  and  be  equally  known  with  the  grossest  and  most 
sensible  ideas,  that  can  be  the  object  of  our  enquiry. 

To  be  fully  acquainted,  therefore,  with  the  idea  of  power  or 
necessary  connexion,  let  us  examine  its  impression ;  and  in  order 
to  find  the  impression  with  greater  certainty,  let  us  search  for 
it  in  all  the  sources,  from  which  it  may  possibly  be  derived. 

When  we  look  about  us  towards  external  objects,  and  consider 
the  operation  of  causes,  we  are  never  able,  in  a  single  instance, 
to  discover  any  power  or  necessary  connexion;  any  quality, 
which  binds  the  effect  to  the  cause,  and  renders  the  one  an  in- 
fallible consequence  of  the  other.  We  only  find,  that  the  one  does 

1  Section  II,  Of  the  Origin  of  Ideas. 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    329 

actually,  in  fact,  follow  the  other.  The  impulse  of  one  bill^rd- 
ball  is  attended  with  motion  in  the  second.  This  is  the  whole 
that  appears  to  the  outward  senses.  The  mind  feels  no  sentiment 
or  inward  impression  from  this  succession  of  objects:  conse- 
quently there  is  not,  in  any  single,  particular  instance  of  cause 
and  effect,  any  thing  which  can  suggest  the  idea  of  power  or 
necessary  connexion. 

From  the  first  appearance  of  an  object,  we  never  can  con- 
jecture what  effect  will  result  from  it.  But  were  the  power  or 
energy  of  any  cause  discoverable  by  the  mind,  we  could  foresee 
the  effect,  even  without  experience;  and  might,  at  first,  pronounce 
with  certainty  concerning  it,  by  mere  dint  of  thought  and  reason- 
ing. 

In  reality,  there  is  no  part  of  matter,  that  does  ever,  by  its 
sensible  qualities,  discover  any  power  or  energy,  or  give  us 
ground  to  imagine,  that  it  could  produce  any  thing,  or  be  fol- 
lowed by  any  other  object,  which  we  could  denominate  its  effect. 
Solidity,  extension,  motion;  these  qualities  are  all  complete  in 
themselves,  and  never  point  out  any  other  event  which  may  result 
from  them.  The  scenes  of  the  universe  are  continually  shifting, 
and  one  object  follows  another  in  an  uninterrupted  succession;  , 
but  the  power  of  force,  which  actuates  the  whole  machine,  is  \ 
entirely  concealed  from  us,  and  never  discovers  itself  in  any  of 
the  sensible  qualities  of  body.  We  know,  that,  in  fact,  heat  is  a 
constant  attendant  of  flame;  but  what  is  the  connexion  between 
them,  we  have  no  room  so  much  as  to  conjecture  or  imagine. 
It  is  impossible,  therefore,  that  the  idea  of  power  can  be  derived 
from  the  contemplation  of  bodies,  in  single  instances  of  their 
operation;  because  no  bodies  ever  discover  any  power,  which 
can  be  the  original  of  this  idea. l 

Since,  therefore,  external  objects  as  they  appear  to  the  senses, 
give  us  no  idea  of  power  or  necessary  connexion,  by  their  opera- 

1  Mr.  Locke,  in  his  chapter  of  power,  says,  that,  finding  from  experience, 
that  there  are  several  new  productions  in  matter,  and  concluding  that  there 
must  somewhere  be  a  power  capable  of  producing  them,  we  arrive  at  last  by 
this  reasoning  at  the  idea  of  power.  But  no  reasoning  can  ever  give  us  a  new, 
original,  simple  idea;  as  this  philosopher  himself  confesses.  This,  therefore, 
can  never  be  the  origin  of  that  idea. 


33o  HUME 

tio^in  particular  instances,  let  us  see,  whether  this  idea  be  de- 
rived from  reflection  on  the  operations  of  our  own  minds,  and  be 
copied  from  any  internal  impression.  It  may  be  said,  that  we 
are  every  moment  conscious  of  internal  power;  while  we  feel, 
that,  by  the  simple  command  of  our  will,  we  can  move  the  organs 
of  our  body,  or  direct  the  faculties  of  our  mind.  An  act  of  voli- 
tion produces  motion  in  our  limbs,  or  raises  a  new  idea  in  our 
imagination.  This  influence  of  the  will  we  know  by  conscious- 
ness. Hence  we  acquire  the  idea  of  power  or  energy;  and  are 
certain,  that  we  ourselves  and  all  other  intelligent  beings  are 
possessed  of  power.  This  idea,  then,  is  an  idea  of  reflection, 
since  it  arises  from  reflecting  on  the  operations  of  our  own  mind, 
and  on  the  command  which  is  exercised  by  will,  both  over  the 
organs  of  the  body  and  faculties  of  the  soul. 

We  shall  proceed  to  examine  this  pretension;  and  first  with 
regard  to  the  influence  of  volition  over  the  organs  of  the  body. 
This  influence,  we  may  observe,  is  a  fact,  which,  like  all  other 
natural  events,  can  be  known  only  by  experience,  and  can  never 
be  foreseen  from  any  apparent  energy  or  power  in  the  cause, 
which  connects  it  with  the  effect,  and  renders  the  one  an  infallible 
consequence  of  the  other.  The  motion  of  our  body  follows  upon 
the  command  of  our  will.  Of  this  we  are  every  moment  conscious. 
But  the  means,  by  which  this  is  effected;  the  energy,  by  which 
the  will  performs  so  extraordinary  an  operation;  of  this  we  are 
so  far  from  being  immediately  conscious,  that  it  must  for  ever 
escape  our  most  diligent  enquiry. 

For  first,  Is  there  any  principle  in  all  nature  more  mysterious 
than  the  union  of  soul  with  body;  by  which  a  supposed  spiritual 
substance  acquires  such  an  influence  over  a  material  one,  that 
the  most  refined  thought  is  able  to  actuate  the  grossest  matter? 
Were  we  empowered,  by  a  secret  wish,  to  remove  mountains, 
or  control  the  planets  in  their  orbit;  this  extensive  authority 
would  not  be  more  extraordinary,  nor  more  beyond  our  com- 
prehension. But  if  by  consciousness  we  perceived  any  power  or 
energy  in  the  will,  we  must  know  this  power;  we  must  know 
its  connexion  with  the  effect;  we  must  know  the  secret  union 
of  soul  and  body,  and  the  nature  of  both  these  substances;  by 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    331 

which  the  one  is  able  to  operate,  in  so  many  instances,  upon  the 
other. 

Secondly,  We  are  not  able__tojnove  all  the  organs  of  the  body 
with  a  likejmthojrity  ;  though  we  cannot  assign  any  reason  besides 
experience,  for  so  remarkable  a  difference  between  one  and  the 
other.  Why  has  the  will  an  influence  over  the  tongue  and  fingers, 
not  over  the  heart  and  liver  ?  This  question  would  never  embar- 
rass us,  were  we  conscious  of  a  power  in  the  former  case,  not  in 
the  latter.  We  should  then  perceive,  independent  of  experience, 
why  the  authority  of  will  over  the  organs  of  the  body  is  circum- 
scribed within  such  particular  limits.  Being  in  that  case  fully 
acquainted  with  the  power  or  force,  by  which  it  operates,  we 
should  also  know,  why  its  influence  reaches  precisely  to  such 
boundaries,  and  no  farther. 

A  man,  suddenly  struck  with  palsy  in  the  leg  or  arm,  or  who 
has  newly  lost  those  members,  frequently  endeavours,  at  first, 
to  move  them,  and  employ  them  in  their  usual  offices.  Here  he 
is  as  much  conscious  of  power  to  command  such  limbs,  as  a  man 
in  perfect  health  is  conscious  of  power  to  actuate  any  member 
which  remains  in  its  natural  state  and  condition.  But  conscious- 
ness never  deceives.  Consequently,  neither  in  the  one  case  nor 
in  the  other,  are  we  ever  conscious  of  any  power.  We  learn  the 


1'^  frnrn  exp^riVnrp  alone.  And  experience  only 
teaches  us,  how  one  event  constantly  follows  another;  without 
instructing  us  in  the  secret  connexion,  which  binds  them  together, 
and  renders  them  inseparable  . 

Thirdly,  We  learn  from  anatomy,  that  the  immediate  object 
of  jx>wer  in  voluntary  motion,  is  not  the  member  itself  which 
is  moved,  but  certain  muscles,  and  nerves,  and  animal  spirits, 
and,  perhaps,  something  still  more  minute  and  more  unknown, 
through  which  the  motion  is  successfully  propagated,  ere  it 
reach  the  member  itself  whose  motion  is  the  immediate  object 
of  volition.  Can  there  be  a  more  certain  proof  that  the  power, 
by  which  this  whole  operation  is  performed,  so  far  from  being 
directly  and  fully  known  by  an.  inward  sentiment  or  conscious- 
ness, is,  to  the  last  degree,  mysterious  and  unintelligible?  Here 
the  mind  wills  a  certain  event;  immediately  another  event,  un- 


332  HUME 

known  to  ourselves,  and  totally  different  from  the  one  intended, 
is  produced.  This  event  produces  another,  equally  unknown: 
till  at  last,  through  a  long  succession,  the  desired  event  is  pro- 
duced. But  if  the  original  power  were  felt,  it  must  be  known; 
were  it  known,  its  effect  also  must  be  known;  since  all  power 
is  relative  to  its  effect.  And  vice  versa,  if  the  effect  be  not 
known,  the  power  cannot  be  known  nor  felt.  How  indeed  can 
we  be  conscious  of  a  power  to  move  our  limbs,  when  we  have 
no  such  power;  but  only  that  to  move  certain  animal  spirits, 
which,  though  they  produce  at  last  the  motion  of  our  limbs,  yet 
operate  in  such  a  manner  as  is  wholly  beyond  our  comprehension  ? 

We  may,  therefore,  conclude  from  the  whole,  I  hope,  without 
any  temerity,  though  with  assurance;  that  our  idea  of  power  is 
not  copied  from  any  sentiment  or  consciousness  of  power  within 
ourselves,  when  we  give  rise  to  animal  motion,  or  apply  our  limbs, 
to  their  proper  use  and  office.  That  their  motion  follows  the  com- 
mand of  the  will  is  a  matter  of  common  experience,  like  other 
natural  events;  but  thejDOwer  or^energy,  by  which  this  is  effected, 
like  that  in  other  natural  events,  is  unknown ^.nd  inconceivable.1 

Shall  we  then  assert,  that  we  are  conscious  of  a  power  or. 
energy  in  our  own  minds,  when,  by  an  act  or  command  of  our 
will,  we  raise  up  a  new  idea,  fix  the  mind  to  the  contemplation 
of  it,  turn  it  on  all  sides,  and  at  last  dismiss  it  for  some  other  idea, 
when  we  think  that  we  have  surveyed  it  with  sufficient  accuracy  ? 
I  believe  the  same  arguments  will  prove,  that  even  this  command 
of  the  will  gives  us  no  real  idea  of  force  or  energy. 

1  It  may  be  pretended,  that  the  resistance  which  we  meet  with  in  bodies, 
obliging  us  frequently  to  exert  our  force,  and  call  up  all  our  power,  this  gives 
us  the  idea  of  force  and  power.  It  is  this  nisus,  or  strong  endeavour,  of  which 
we  are  conscious,  that  is  the  original  impression  from  which  this  idea  is  cop- 
ied. But,  first,  we  attribute  power  to  a  vast  number  of  objects,  where  we  never 
can  suppose  this  resistance  or  exertion  of  force  to  take  place;  to  the  Supreme 
Being,  who  never  meets  with  any  resistance;  to  the  mind  in  its  command  over 
its  ideas  and  limbs,  in  common  thinking  and  motion,  where  the  effect  follows 
immediately  upon  the  will,  without  any  exertion  or  summoning  up  of  force;  to 
inanimate  matter,  which  is  not  capable  of  this  sentiment.  Secondly,  This  sen- 
timent of  an  endeavour  to  overcome  resistance  has  no  known  connexion  with 
any  event:  what  follows  it,  we  know  by  experience;  but  could  not  know  it 
a  priori.  It  must,  however,  be  confessed,  that  the  animal  nisus,  which  we  expe- 
rience, though  it  can  afford  no  accurate  precise  idea  of  power,  enters  very  much 
into  that  vulgar,  inaccurate  idea,  which  is  formed  of  it. 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    333 

First,  It  must  be  allowed,  that,  when  we  know  a  power,  we 
know  that  very  circumstance  in  the  cause,  by  which  it  is  enabled 
to  produce  the  effect :  for  these  are  supposed  to  be  synonymous. 
We  must,  therefore,  know  both  the  cause  and  effect,  and  the 
relation  between  them.  But  do  we  pretend  to  be  acquainted 
with  the  nature  of  the  human  soul  and  the  nature  of  an  idea,  or 
the  aptitude  of  the  one  to  produce  the  other  ?  This  is  a  real  crea- 
tion; a  production  of  something  out  of  nothing;  which  implies 
a  power  so  great,  that  it  may  seem,  at  first  sight,  beyond  the 
reach  of  any  being,  less  than  infinite.  At  least  it  must  be  owned, 
that  such  a  power  is  not  felt,  nor  known,  nor  even  conceivable 
by  the  mind.  We  only  feel  the  event,  namely,  the  existence  of 
an  idea,  consequent  to  a  command  of  the  will;  but  the  manner, 
in  which  this  operation  is  performed,  the  power  by  which  it  is 
produced,  is  entirely  beyond  our  comprehension. 

Secondly,  The  command  of  the  mind  over  itself  is  limited,  as 
well  as  its  command  over  the  body;  and  these  limits  are  not 
known  by  reason,  or  any  acquaintance  with  the  nature  of  cause 
and  effect;  but  only  by  experience  and  observation,  as  in  all 
other  natural  events  and  in  the  operation  of  external  objects. 
Our  authority  over  our  sentiments  and  passions  is  much  weaker 
than  that  oy£r_QiirJdeas ;  and  even  the  latter  authority  is  circum- 
scribed within  very  narrow  boundaries.  Will  any  one  pretend 
to  assign  the  ultimate  reason  of  these  boundaries,  or  show  why 
the  power  is  deficient  in  one  case,  not  in  another. 

Thirdly,  This  self-command  is  very  different  at  different 
times.  A  man  in  health  possesses  more  of  it  than  one  languish- 
ing with  sickness.  We  are  more  master  of  our  thoughts  in  the 
morning  than  in  the  evening;  fasting,  than  after  a  full  meal. 
Can  we  give  any  reason  for  these  variations,  except  experience  ? 
Where  then  is  the  power,  of  which  we  pretend  to  be  conscious  ? 
Is  there  not  here,  either  in  a  spiritual  or  material  substance,  or 
both,  some  secret  mechanism  or  structure  of  parts,  upon  which 
the  effect  depends,  and  which,  being  entirely  unknown  to  us, 
renders  the  power  or  energy  of  the  will  equally  unknown  and 
incomprehensible  ? 

Volition  is  surely  an  act  of  the  mind,  with  which  we  are  suffi- 


334  HUME 

ciently  acquainted.  Reflect  upon  it.  Consider  it  on  all  sides. 
Do  you  find  anything  in  it  like  this  creative  power,  by  which  it 
raises  from  nothing  a  new  idea,  and  with  a  kind  of  Fiat,  imitates 
the  omnipotence  of  its  Maker,  if  I  may  be  allowed  so  to  speak, 
who  called  forth  into  existence  all  the  various  scenes  of  nature  ? 
So  far  from  being  conscious  of  this  energy  in  the  will,  it  requires 
as  certain  experience  as  that  of  which  we  are  possessed,  to  con- 
vince us  that  such  extraordinary  effects  do  ever  result  from  a 
simple  act  of  volition. 

The  generality  of  mankind  never  find  any  difficulty  in  account- 
ing for  the  more  common  and  familiar  operations  of  nature  — 
such  as  the  descent  of  heavy  bodies,  the  growth  of  plants,  the 
generation  of  animals,  or  the  nourishment  of  bodies  by  food. 
But  suppose,  that,  in  all  these  cases,  they  perceive  the  very  force 
or  energy  of  the  cause,  by  which  it  is  connected  with  its  effect, 
and  is  for  ever  infallible  in  its  operation.  They  acquire,  by  long 
habit,  such  a  turn  of  mind,  that,  upon  the  appearance  of  the 
cause,  they  immediately  expect  with  assurance  its  usual  attend- 
ant, and  hardly  conceive  it  possible  that  any  other  event  could 
result  from  it.  It  is  only  on  the  discovery  of  extraordinary  phae- 
nomena,  such  as  earthquakes,  pestilence,  and  prodigies  of  any 
kind,  that  they  find  themselves  at  a  loss  to  assign  a  proper  cause, 
and  to  explain  the  manner  in  which  the  effect  is  produced  by 
it.  It  is  usual  for  men,  in  such  difficulties,  to  have  recourse  to 
some  invisible  intelligent  principle *  as  the  immediate  cause  of  that 
event  which  surprises  them;  and  which,  they  think,  cannot  be 
accounted  for  from  the  common  powers  of  nature.  But  philoso- 
phers, who  carry  their  scrutiny  a  little  farther,  immediately  per- 
ceive that,  even  in  the  most  familiar  events,  the  energy  of  the 
cause  is  as  unintelligible  as  in  the  most  unusual,  and  that  we 
only  learn  by  experience  the  frequent  Conjunction  of  objects, 
without  being  ever  able  to  comprehend  anything  like  Connexion 
between  them.  Here,  then,  many  philosophers  think  themselves 
obliged  by  reason  to  have  recourse,  on  all  occasions,  to  the  same 
-principle,  which  the  vulgar  never  appeal  to  but  in  cases  that 
appear  miraculous  and  supernatural.  They  acknowledge  mind 

1  debs  ai 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    335 

and  intelligence  to  be,  not  only  the  ultimate  and  original  cause 
of  all  things,  but  the  immediate  and  sole  cause  of  every  event 
which  appears  in  nature.  They  pretend  that  those  objects 
which  are  commonly  denominated  causes,  are  in  reality  nothing 
but  occasions;  and  that  the  true  and  direct  principle  of  every 
effect  is  not  any  power  of  force  in  nature,  but  a  volition  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  who  wills  that  such  particular  objects  should 
for  ever  be  conjoined  with  each  other.  Instead  of  saying  that  one 
billiard-ball  moves  another  by  a  force  which  it  has  derived  from 
the  author  of  nature,  it  is  the  Deity  himself,  they  say,  who,  by 
a  particular  volition,  moves  the  second  ball,  being  determined 
to  this  operation  by  the  impulse  of  the  first  ball,  in  consequence 
of  those  general  laws  which  he  has  laid  down  to  himself  in  the 
government  of  the  universe.  But  philosophers  advancing  still 
in  their  inquiries,  discover  that,  as  we  are  totally  ignorant  of  the 
power  on  which  depends  the  mutual  operation  of  bodies,  we  are 
no  less  ignorant  of  that  power  on  which  depends  the  operation 
of  mind  on  body,  or  of  body  on  mind;  nor  are  we  able,  either 
from  our  senses  or  consciousness,  to  assign  the  ultimate  principle 
in  one  case  more  than  in  the  other.  The  same  ignorance,  there- 
fore, reduces  them  to  the  same  conclusion.  They  assert  that  the 
Deity  is  the  immediate  cause  of  the  union  between  soul  and 
body;  and  that  they  are  not  the  organs  of  sense,  which,  being 
agitated  by  external  objects,  produce  sensations  in  the  mind; 
but  that  it  is  a  particular  volition  of  our  omnipotent  Maker, 
which  excites  such  a  sensation,  in  consequence  of  such  a  motion 
in  the  organ.  In  like  manner,  it  is  not  any  energy  in  the  will  that 
produces  local  motion  in  our  members:  it  is  God  himself,  who 
is  pleased  to  second  our  will,  in  itself  impotent,  and  to  command 
that  motion  which  we  erroneously  attribute  to  our  own  power  and 
efficacy.  Nor  do  philosophers  stop  at  this  conclusion.  They 
sometimes  extend  the  same  inference  to  the  mind  itself,  in  "its 
internal  operations.  Our  mental  vision  or  conception  of  ideas 
is  nothing  but  a  revelation  made  to  us  by  our  Maker.  When  we 
voluntarily  turn  our  thoughts  to  any  object,  and  raise  up  its 
image  in  the  fancy;  it  is  not  the  will  which  creates  that  idea;  it 
is  the  universal  Creator,  who  discovers  it  to  the  mind,  and  renders 
it  present  to  us. 


336  HUME 

Thus,  according  to  these  philosophers,  every  thing  is  full  of 
God.  Not  content  with  the  principle,  that  nothing  exists  but  by 
his  will,  that  nothing  possesses  any  power  but  by  his  concession, 
they  rob  nature,  and  all  created  beings,  of  every  power,  in  order 
to  render  their  dependence  on  the  Deity  still  more  sensible  and 
immediate.  They  consider  not  that,  by  this  theory,  they  dimin- 
ish, instead  of  magnifying,  the  grandeur  of  those  attributes, 
which  they  affect  so  much  to  celebrate.  It  argues  surely  more 
power  in  the  Deity  to  delegate  a  certain  degree  of  power  to  in^ 
ferior  creatures,  than  to  produce  every  thing  by  his  own  immedi- 
ate volition.  It  argues  more  wisdom  to  contrive  at  first  the  fabric 
of  the  world  with  such  perfect  foresight,  that,  of  itself,  and  by  its 
proper  operation,  it  may  serve  all  the  purposes  of  providence, 
than  if  the  great  Creator  were  obliged  every  moment  to  adjust 
its  parts,  and  animate  by  his  breath  all  the  wheels  of  that  stu- 
pendous machine. 

But  if  we  would  have  a  more  philosophical  confutation  of  this 
theory,  perhaps  the  two  following  reflections  may  suffice. 

First,  It  seems  to  me,  that  this  theory  of  the  universal  energy 
and  operation  of  the  Supreme  Being,  is  too  bold  ever  to  carry 
conviction  with  it  to  a  man,  sufficiently  apprized  of  the  weakness 
of  human  reason,  and  the  narrow  limits  to  which  it  is  confined 
in  all  its  operations.  Though  the  chain  of  arguments  which  con- 
duct to  it  were  ever  so  logical,  there  must  arise  a  strong  suspicion, 
if  not  an  absolute  assurance,  that  it  has  carried  us  quite  beyond 
the  reach  of  our  faculties,  when  it  leads  to  conclusions  so  extra- 
ordinary, and  so  remote  from  common  life  and  experience.  We 
are  got  into  fairy  land,  long  ere  we  have  reached  the  last  steps  of 
our  theory;  and  there  we  have  no  reason  to  trust  our  common 
methods  of  argument,  or  to  think  that  our  usual  analogies  and 
probabilities  have  any  authority.  Our  line  is  too  short  to  fathom 
such  immense  abysses.  And  however  we  may  flatter  ourselves 
that  we  are  guided,  in  every  step  which  we  take,  by  a  kind  of 
verisimilitude  and  experience;  we  maybe  assured  that  this  fan- 
cied experience  has  no  authority  when  we  thus  apply  it  to  sub- 
jects that  lie  entirely  out  of  the  sphere  of  experience.  But  on  this 
we  shall  have  occasion  to  touch  afterwards. 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    337 

Secondly,  I  cannot  perceive  any  force  in  the  arguments  on 
which  this  theory  is  founded.  We  are  ignorant,  it  is  true,  of 
the  manner  in  which  bodies  operate  on  each  other:  their  force 
or  energy  is  entirely  incomprehensible;  but  are  we  not  equally 
ignorant  of  the  manner  or  force  by  which  a  mind,  even  the  su- 
preme mind,  operates  either  on  itself  or  on  body?  Whence,  I 
beseech  you,  do  we  acquire  any  idea  of  it  ?  We  have  no  senti- 
ment or  consciousness  of  this  power  in  ourselves.  We^havejQQ 
idea  of  the  Supreme  Being  but  what  we  learn  from  reflection  on 
our  own  faculties.  Were  our  ignorance,  therefore,  a  good  reason 
for  rejecting  any  thing,  we  should  be  led  into  that  principle  of 
denying  all  energy  in  the  Supreme  Being  as  much  as  in  the  gross- 
est matter.  We  surely  comprehend  as  little  the  operations  of  one 
as  of  the  other.  Is  it  more  difficult  to  conceive  that  motion  may 
arise  from  impulse  than  that  it  may  arise  from  volition  ?  All  we 
know  is  our  profound  ignorance  in  both  cases.1 

PART  II 

But  to  hasten  to  a  conclusion  of  this  argument,  which  is 
already  drawn  out  to  too  great  a  length :  we  have  sought  in  vain 
for  an  idea  of  power  or  necessary  connexion  in  all  the  sources 

1  I  need  not  examine  at  length  the  vis  inertiae  which  is  so  much  talked  of  in 
the  new  philosophy,  and  which  is  ascribed  to  matter.  We  find  by  experience, 
that  a  body  at  rest  or  in  motion  continues  for  ever  in  its  present  state,  till  put 
from  it  by  some  new  cause;  and  that  a  body  impelled  takes  as  much  motion 
from  the  impelling  body  as  it  acquires  itself.  These  _aje  facts.  When  we  call 
this  a  vis  inertiae,  we  only  mark  these  facts*  without  pretending  to  have  any 
idea  of  the  inert  power;  in  the  same  manner  as,  when  we  talk  of  gravity,  we 
mean  certain  effects,  without  comprehending  that  act  of  power.  It  was  never 
tneSjjjgariing  of  SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON  to  rob  second  causes  of  all  force  or  energy; 
thougfi  some  of  his  followers  have  endeavoured  to  establish  that  theory  upon  his 
authority.  On  the  contrary,  that  great  philosopher  had  recourse  to  an  ethereal 
active  fluid  to  explain  his  universal  attraction;  though  he  was  so  cautious  and 
modest  as  to  allow,  that  it  was  a  mere  hypothesis,  not  to  be  insisted  on,  without 
more  experiments.  I  must  confess,  that  there  is  something  in  the  fate  of  opinions 
a  little  extraordinary.  DESCARTES  insinuated  that  doctrine  of  the  universal 
and  sole  efficacy  of  the  Deity,  without  insisting  on  it.  MALEBRANCHE  and 
other  CARTESIANS  made  it  .the  foundation  of  all  their  philosophy.  It  had,  how- 
ever, no  authority  in  England.  LOCKE,  CLARKE,  and  CUDWORTH  never  so 
much  as  take  notice  of  it,  but  suppose  all  along,  that  matter  has  a  real,  though 
subordinate  and  derived  power.  By  what  means  has  it  become  so  prevalent 
among  our  modern  metaphysicians  ? 


338  HUME 

from  which  we  could  suppose  it  to  be  derived.  It  appears  that, 
in  single  instances  of  the  operation  of  bodies,  we  never  can,  by 
our  utmost  scrutiny,  discover  any  thing  but  one  event  following 
another,  without  being  able  to  comprehend  any  force  or  power 
by  which  the  cause  operates,  or  any  connexion  between  it  and  its 
supposed  effect.  The  same  difficulty  occurs  in  contemplating 
the  operations  of  mind  on  body;  where  we  observe  the  motion 
of  the  latter  to  follow  upon  the  volition  of  the  former,  but  are 
not  able  to  observe  or  conceive  the  tie  which  binds  together  the 
motion  and  volition,  or  the  energy  by  which  the  mind  produces 
this  effect.  The  authority  of  the  will  over  its  own  faculties  and 
ideas  is  not  a  whit  more  comprehensible:  So  that,  upon  the 
whole,  there  appears  not,  throughout  all  nature,  any  one  instance 
of  connexion  which  is  conceivable  by  us.  All  events  seem  en- 
tirely loose  and  separate.  One  event  follows  another;  but  we 
never  can  observe  any  tie  between  them.  They  seem  conjoined, 
but  never  connected.  And  as  we  can  have  no  idea  of  any  thing 
which  never  appeared  to  our  outward  sense  or  inward  sentiment, 
the  necessary  conclusion  seems  to  be,  that  we  have  no  idea  of 
connexion  or  power  at  all,  and  that  these  words  are  absolutely, 
without  any  meaning,  when  employed  either  in  philosophical 
reasonings  or  common  life. 

But  there  still  remains  one  method  of  avoiding  this  conclu- 
sion, and  one  source  which  we  have  not  yet  examined.  When 
any  natural  object  or  event  is  presented,  it  is  impossible  for  us, 
by  any  sagacity  or  penetration,  to  discover,  or  even  conjecture,, 
without  experience,  what  event  will  result  from  it,  or  to  carry 
our  foresight  beyond  that  object  which  is  immediately  present  to 
the  memory  and  senses.  Even  after  one  instance  or  experiment, 
where  we  have  observed  a  particular  event  to  follow  upon  an- 
other, we  are  not  entitled  to  form  a  general  rule,  or  foretell  what 
will  happen  in  like  cases;  it  being  justly  esteemed  an  unpardon- 
able temerity  to  judge  of  the  whole  course  of  nature  from  one 
single  experiment,  however  accurate  or  certain.  But  when  one 
particular  species  of  event  has  always,  in  all  instances,  been 
conjoined  with  another,  we  make  no  longer  any  scruple  of  fore- 
telling one  upon  the  appearance  of  the  other,  and  of  employing 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    339 

that  reasoning  which  can  alone  assure  us  of  any  matter  of  fact 
or  existence.  We  then  call  the  one  object,  Cause;  the  other, 
Effect.  We  suppose  that  there  is  some  connexion  between  them; 
some  power  in  the  one,  by  which  it  infallibly  produces  the  other, 
and  operates  with  the  greatest  certainty  and  strongest  necessity. 

It  appears,  then,  that  this  idea  of  anecessary  Connexion  among 
events  arises  from  a  number  of  similar  instances,  which  occur,  of  • 
the  constant  conjunction  of  these  events;  nor  can  that  idea  ever 
be  suggested  by  any  one  of  these  instances,  surveyed  in  all  pos- 
sible lights  and  positions.  But  there  is  nothing  in  a  number  of 
instances,  different  from  every  single  instance,  which  is  supposed 
to  be  exactly  similar;  except  only,  that  after  a  repetition  of  similar 
instances,  the  mind  is  carried  by  habit,  upon  the  appearance  of 
one  event,  to  expect  its  usual  attendant,  and  to  believe  that  it 
will  exist.  This  connexion,  therefore,  which  we  feel  in  the  mind, 
this  customary  transition  of  the  imagination  from  one  object  to 
its  usual  attendant,  is  the  sentiment  or  impression  from  which 
we  form  the  idea  of  power  or  necessary  connexion.  Nothing 
farther  is  in  the  case.  Contemplate  the  subject  on  all  sides; 
you  will  never  find  any  other  origin  of  that  idea.  This  is  the  sole 
difference  between  one  instance,  from  which  we  can  never  receive 
the  idea  of  connexion,  and  a  number  of  similar  instances,  by 
which  it  is  suggested.  The  first  time  a  man  saw  the  communica- 
tion of  motion  by  impulse,  as  by  the  shock  of  two  billiard-balls, 
he  could  not  pronounce  that  the  one  event  was  connected:  but 
only  that  it  was  conjoined  with  the  other.  After  he  has  observed 
several  instances  of  this  nature,  he  then  pronounces  them  to  be 
connected.  What  alteration  has  happened  to  give  rise  to  this  new 
idea  of  connexion?  Nothing  but  that  he  now  feels  these  events 
to  be  connected  in  his  imagination,  and  can  readily  foretell  the- 
existence  of  one  from  the  appearance  of  the  other.  When  we  say, 
therefore,  that  one  object  is  connected  with  another,  we  mean 
only  that  they  have  acquired  a  connexion  in  our  thought,  and 
give  rise  to  this  inference,  by  which  they  become  proofs  of  each 
other's  existence:  a  conclusion  which  is  somewhat  extraordi- 
nary, but  which  seems  founded  on  sufficient  evidence.  Nor  will 
its  evidence  be  weakened  by  any  general  diffidence  of  the  un- 


340  HUME 

derstanding,  or  sceptical  suspicion  concerning  every  conclusion 
which  is  new  and  extraordinary.  No  conclusions  can  be  more 
agreeable  to  scepticism  than  such  as  make  discoveries  concern- 
ing the  weakness  and  narrow  limits  of  human  reason  and  ca- 
pacity. 

And  what  stronger  instance  can  be  produced  of  the  surprising 
ignorance  and  weakness  of  the  understanding  than  the  present  ? 
For  surely,  if  there  be  any  relation  among  objects  which  it  im- 
ports to  us  to  know  perfectly,  it  is  that  of  cause  and  effect.  On 
this  are  founded  all  our  reasonings  concerning  matter  of  fact  or 
existence.  By  means  of  it  alone  we  attain  any  assurance  concern- 
ing objects  which  are  removed  from  the  present  testimony  of  our 
memory  and  senses.  The  only  immediate  utility  of  all  sciences, 
is  to  teach  us,  how  to  control  and  regulate  future  events  by 
their  causes.  Our  thoughts  and  enquiries  are,  therefore,  every 
moment,  employed  about  this  relation ;  yet  so  imperfect  are  the 
ideas  which  we  form  concerning  it,  that  it  is  impossible  to  give 
any  just  definition  of  cause,  except  what  is  drawn  from  some- 
thing extraneous  and  foreign  to  it.  Similar  objects  are  always 
conjoined  with  similar.  Of  this  we  have  experience.  Suitably  to 
this  experience,  therefore,  we  may  define  a  cause  to  be  an  object, 
followed  by  another,  and  where  all  the  objects,  similar  to  the  first, 
are  followed  by  objects  similar  to  the  second.  Or  in  other  words 
where,  if  the  first  object  had  not  been,  the  second  never  had  existed. 
The  appearance  of  a  cause  always  conveys  the  mind,  by  a  cus- 
tomary transition,  to  the  idea  of  the  effect.  Of  this  also  we  have 
experience.  We  may,  therefore,  suitably  to  this  experience,  form 
another  definition  of  cause,  and  call  it,  an  object  followed  by  an- 
other, and  whose  appearance  always  conveys  the  thought  to  that 
other.  But  though  both  these  definitions  be  drawn  from  circum- 
stances foreign  to  the  cause,  we  cannot  remedy  this  inconvenience, 
or  attain  any  more  perfect  definition,  which  may  point  out  that 
circumstance  in  the  cause,  which  gives  it  a  connexion  with  its 
effect.  We  have  no  idea  of  this  connexion;  nor  even  any  distinct 
notion  what  it  is  we  desire  to  know,  when  we  endeavour  at  a 
conception  of  it.  We  say,  for  instance,  that  the  vibration  of  this 
string  is  the  cause  of  this  particular  sound.  But  what  do  we 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    341 

mean  by  that  affirmation  ?  We  either  mean,  that  this  vibration 
is  followed  by  this  sound,  and  that  all  similar  vibrations  have  been 
followed  by  similar  sounds;  or,  that  this  vibration  is  followed  by 
this  sound,  and  that  upon  the  appearance  of  one  the  mind  antici- 
pates the  senses,  and  forms  immediately  an  idea  of  the  other.  We 
may  consider  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  in  either  of  these 
two  lights;  but  beyond  these,  we  have  no  idea  of  it.1 

To  recapitulate,  therefore,  the  reasonings  of  this  section: 
Every  idea  is  copied  from  some  preceding  impression  or  senti- 
ment ;  and  where  we  cannot  find  any  impression,  we  may  be  cer- 
tain that  there  is  no  idea,  jn  all  single  instances  of  the  operation 
of  bodies  or  minds,  there  is  nothing  that  produces  any  impression, 
nor  consequently  can  suggest  any  idea  of  power  or  necessary 
connexion.  But  when  many  uniform  instances  appear,  and  the 
"same  object  is  always  followed  by  the  same  event ;  we  then  begin 
to  entertain  the  notion  of  cause  and  connexion.  We  then  feel 
a  new  sentiment  or  impression,  to  wit,  a  customary  connexion  in 
the  thought  or  imagination  between  one  object  and  its  usual 
attendant;  and  this  sentiment  is  the  original  of  that  idea  which 
we  seek  for.  For  as  this  idea  arises  from  a  number  of  similar  in- 
stances, and  not  from  any  single  instance,  it  must  arise  from  that 
circumstance,  in  which  the  number  of  instances  differ  from  every 
individual  instance.  But  this  customary  connexion  or  transition 
of  the  imagination  is  the  only  circumstance  in  which  they  differ. 
In  every  other  particular  they  are  alike.  The  first  instance  which 
we  saw  of  motion  communicated  by  the  shock  of  two  billiard- 
balls  (to  return  to  this  obvious  illustration)  is  exactly  similar 
to  any  instance  that  may,  at  present,  occur  to  us;  except  only, 
that  we  could  not,  at  first,  infer  one  event  from  the  other;  which 
we  are  enabled  to  do  at  present,  after  so  long  a  course  of  uniform 
experience.  I  know  not  whether  the  reader  will  readily  apprehend 
this  reasoning.  I  am  afraid  that,  should  I  multiply  words  about 
it,  or  throw  it  into  a  greater  variety  of  lights,  it  would  only  become 
more  obscure  and  intricate.  In  all  abstract  reasonings  there  is 

1  According  to  these  explications  and  definitions,  the  idea  of  power  is  rela- 
tive as  much  as  that  of  cause  ;  and  both  have  a  reference  to  an  effect,  or  some 
other  event  constantly  conjoined  with  the  former.  .  .  . 


342  HUME 

one  point  of  view  which,  if  we  can  happily  hit,  we  shall  go  farther 
towards  illustrating  the  subject  than  by  all  the  eloquence  in  the 
world.  This  point  of  view  we  should  endeavour  to  reach,  and 
reserve  the  flowers  of  rhetoric  for  subjects  which  are  more 
adapted  to  them. 

SECTION  XII.    OF   THE  ACADEMICAL   OR  SCEP- 
TICAL PHILOSOPHY 

PART  III 

There  is,  indeed,  a  more  mitigated  scepticism  or  academical 
philosophy,  which  may  be  both  durable  and  useful,  and  which 
may,  in  part,  be  the  result  of  this  Pyrrhonism,  or  excessive  scep- 
ticism, when  its  undistinguished  doubts  are,  in  some  measure, 
corrected  by  common  sense  and  reflection.  The  greater  part  of 
mankind  are  naturally  apt  to  be  affirmative  and  dogmatical  in 
their  opinions ;  and  while  they  see  objects  only  on  one  side,  and 
have  no  idea  of  any  counterpoising  argument,  they  throw  them- 
selves precipitately  into  the  principles,  to  which  they  are  in- 
clined; nor  have  they  any  indulgence  for  those  who  entertain 
opposite  sentiments.  To  hesitate  or  balance  perplexes  their  un- 
derstanding, checks  their  passion,  and  suspends  their  action. 
They  are,  therefore,  impatient  till  they  escape  from  a  state, 
which  to  them  is  so  uneasy  :  and  they  think,  that  they  could 
never  remove  themselves  far  enough  from  it,  by  the  violence  of 
their  affirmations  and  obstinacy  of  their  belief.  But  could  such 
dogmatical  reasoners  become  sensible  of  the  strange  infirmities 
of  human  understanding,  even  in  its  most  perfect  state,  and 
when  most  accurate  and  cautious  in  its  determinations;  such  a 
reflection  would  naturally  inspire  them  with  more  modesty  and 
reserve,  and  diminish  their  fond .  opinion  of  themselves,  and 
their  prejudice  against  antagonists.  The  illiterate  may  reflect 
on  the  disposition  of  the  learned,  who,  amidst  all  the  advan- 
tages of  study  and  reflection,  are  commonly  still  diffident  in 
their  determinations  :  and  if  any  of  the  learned  be  inclined,  from 
their  natural  temper,  to  haughtiness  and  obstinacy,  a  small 
tincture  of  Pyrrhonism  might  abate  their  pride,  by  showing 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    343 

them,  that  the  few  advantages,  which  they  may  have  attained 
over  their  fellows,  are  but  inconsiderable,  if  compared  with  the 
universal  perplexity  and  confusion,  which  is  inherent  in  human 
nature.  In  general,  there  is  a  degree  of  doubt,  and  caution,  and 
modesty,  which,  in  all  kinds  of  scrutiny  and  decision,  ought  for 
ever  to  accompany  a  just  reasoner. 

Another  species  of  mitigated  scepticism  which  may  be  of  ad- 
vantage to  mankind,  and  which  may  be  the  natural  result  of 
the  Pyrrhonian  doubts  and  scruples,  is  the  limitation  of  our 
enquiries  to  such  subjects  as  are  best  adapted  to  the  narrow 
capacity  of  human  understanding.  The  imagination  of  man 
is  naturally  sublime,  delighted  with  whatever  is  remote  and  ex- 
traordinary, and  running,  without  control,  into  the  most  distant 
parts  of  space  and  time  in  order  to  avoid  the  objects,  which 
custom  has  rendered  too  familiar  to  it.  A  correct  judgment 
observes  a  contrary  method,  and  avoiding  all  distant  and  high 
enquiries,  confines  itself  to  common  life,  and  to  such  subjects 
as  fall  under  daily  practice  and  experience;  leaving  the  more 
sublime  topics  to  the  embellishment  of  poets  and  orators,  or  to 
the  arts  of  priests  and  politicians.  To  bring  us  to  so  salutary  a 
determination,  nothing  can  be  more  serviceable,  than  to  be  once 
thoroughly  convinced  of  the  force  of  the  Pyrrhonian  doubt,  and 
of  the  impossibility,  that  anything,  but  the  strong  power  of 
natural  instinct,  could  free  us  from  it.  Those  who  have  a  pro- 
pensity to  philosophy,  will  still  continue  their  researches ;  because 
they  reflect,  that,  besides  the  immediate  pleasure,  attending 
such  an  occupation,  philosophical  decisions  are  nothing  but  the 
reflections  of  common  life,  methodized  and  corrected.  But  they 
will  never  be  tempted  to  go  beyond  common  life,  so  long  as  they 
consider  the  imperfection  of  those  faculties  which  they  employ, 
their  narrow  reach,  and  their  inaccurate  operations.  While  we 
cannot  give  a  satisfactory  reason,  why  we  believe,  after  a  thou- 
sand experiments,  that  a  stone  will  fall,  or  fire  burn;  can  we 
ever  satisfy  ourselves  concerning  any  determination,  which  we 
may  form,  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  worlds,  and  the  situation 
of  nature,  from,  and  to  eternity  ? 

This  narrow  limitation,  indeed,  of  our  enquiries,  is,  in  every 


\i 


344  HUME 

respect,  so  reasonable,  that  it  suffices  to  make  the  slightest  ex- 
amination into  the  natural  powers  of  the  human  mind  and  to 
compare  them  with  their  objects,  in  order  to  recommend  it  to 
us.  We  shall  then  find  what  are  the  proper  subjects  of  science 
and  enquiry. 

It__geemsjp  me,  that  tJaannly  ojjjects  oLthe  abstract  science 
or^of  demonstration  arer  qu\ntit/ ancknu^ol^r,  and  that  all  at- 
tempts to  extend  this  more  perfect  specie's  of  knowledge  beyond 
these  bounds  are  mere  sophistry  and  illusion.  As  the  compo- 
nent parts  of  quantity  and  number  are  entirely  similar,  their 
relations  become  intricate  and  involved;  and  nothing  can  be 
more  curious,  as  well  as  useful,  than  to  trace,  by  a  variety  of 
mediums  their  equality  or  inequality,  through  their  different 
appearances.  But  as  all  other  ideas  are  clearly  distinct  and 
different  from  each  other,  we  can  never  advance  farther,  by  our 
utmost  scrutiny,  than  to  observe  this  diversity,  and,  by  an  ob- 
vious reflection,  pronounce  one  thing  not  to  be  another.  Or 
if  there  be  any  difficulty  in  these  decisions,  it  proceeds  entirely 
from  the  undeterminate  meaning  of  words,  which  is  corrected 
by  juster  definitions.  That  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse  is  equal 
to  the  squares  of  the  other  two  sides,  cannot  be  known,  let  the 
terms  be  ever  so  exactly  defined,  without  a  train  of  reasoning 
and  enquiry.  But  to  convince  us  of  this  proposition,  that  where 
there  is  no  property,  there  can  be  no  injustice,  it  is  only  necessary 
to  define  the  terms,  and  explain  injustice  to  be  a  violation  of 
property.  This  proposition  is,  indeed,  nothing  but  a  more  im- 
perfect definition.  It  is  the  same  case  with  all  those  pretended 
syllogistical  reasonings,  which  may  be  found  in  every  other 
branch  of  learning,  except  the  sciences  of  quantity  and  number ; 
and  these  may  safely,  I  think,  be  pronounced  the  only  proper 
objects  of  knowledge  and  demonstration. 

All  other  enquiries  of  men  regard  only  matter  of  fact  and 
existence;  and  these  are  evidently  incapable  of  demonstration. 
Whatever  is  may  not  be.  No  negation  of  a  fact  can  involve  a 
contradiction.  The  non-existence  of  any  being,  without  excep- 
tion, is  as  clear  and  distinct  an  idea  as  its  existence.  The  pro- 
position, which  affirms  it  not  to  be,  however  false,  is  no  less 


CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING    345 

conceivable  and  intelligible,  than  that  which  affirms  it  to  be. 
The  case  is  different  with  the  sciences,  properly  so  called.  Every 
proposition,  which  is  not  true,  is  there  confused  and  unintel- 
ligible. That  the  cube  root  of  64  is  equal  to  the  half  of  10,  is  a 
false  proposition,  and  can  never  be  distinctly  conceived.  But 
that  Caesar,  or  the  angel  Gabriel,  or  any  being  never  existed, 
may  be  a  false  proposition,  but  still  is  perfectly  conceivable,  and 
implies  no  contradiction. 

The  existence,  therefore,  of  any  being  can  only  be  proved  by 
arguments  from  its  cause  or  its  effect ;  and  these  arguments  are 
founded  entirely  on  experience.  If  we  reason  a  priori,  anything 
may  appear  able  to  produce  anything.  The  falling  of  a  pebble 
may,  for  aught  we  know,  extinguish  the  sun;  or  the  wish  of  a 
man  control  the  planets  in  their  orbits.  It  is  only  experience, 
which  teaches  us  the  nature  and  bounds  of  cause  and  effect,  and 
enables  us  to  infer  the  existence  of  one  object  from  that  of  an- 
other. *  ^Jnich  is  the  foundation  of  moral  reasoning,)  which  forms 
the  greater  part  of  human  knowledge,  and  is  the  source  of  all 
human  action  and  behaviour. 

Moral  reasonings  are  either  concerning  particular  or  general 
facts.  All  deliberations  in  life  regard  the  former;  as  also  all 
disquisitions  in  history,  chronology,  geography,  and  astronomy. 

The  sciences,  which  treat  of  general  facts,  are  politics,  natural 
philosophy,  physic,  chemistry,  &c.  where  the  qualities,  causes 
and  effects  of  a  whole  species  of  objects  are  enquired  into. 

Divinity  or  Theology,  as  it  proves  the  existence  of  a  Deity, 
and  the  immortality  of  souls,  is  composed  partly  of  reasonings 
concerning  particular,  partly  concerning  general  facts.  It  has  a 
foundation  in  reason,  so  far  as  it  is  supported  by  experience. 
But  its  best  and  most  solid  foundation  is  faith  and  divine  reve- 
lation. 

Morals  and  criticism  are  not  so  properly  objects  of  the  under- 
standing as  of  taste  and  sentiment.  Beauty,  whether  moral  or 

1  That  impious  maxim  of  the  ancient  philosophy,  Ex  nihilo,  nihil  fit,  by  which 
the  creation  of  matter  was  excluded,  ceases  to  be  a  maxim,  according  to  this 
philosophy.  Not  only  the  will  of  the  supreme  Being  may  create  matter;  but, 
for  aught  we  know  a  priori,  the  will  of  any  other  being  might  create  it,  or  any 
other  cause,  that  the  most  whimsical  imagination  can  assign. 


346  HUME 

natural,  is  felt,  more  properly  than  perceived.  Or  if  we  reason 
concerning  it,  and  endeavour  to  fix  its  standard,  we  regard  a 
new  fact,  to  wit,  the  general  tastes  of  mankind,  or  some  such 
fact,  which  may  be  the  object  of  reasoning  and  enquiry. 

When  we  run  over  libraries,  persuaded  of  these  principles, 
what  havoc  must  we  make  ?  If  we  take  in  our  hand  any  volume ; 
of  divinity  or  school  metaphysics,  for  instance ;  let  us  ask,  Does 
it  contain  any  abstract  reasoning  concerning  quantity  or  number  ? 
No.  Does  it  contain  any  experimental  reasoning  concerning 
matter  of  fact  and  existence  ?  No.  Commit  it  then  to  the  flames  : 
for  it  can  contain  nothing  but  sophistry  and  illusion. 


ETIENNE  BONNOT  DE  GONDILLAG 

(1715-1780) 

TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS 

Translated  from  the  French  #  by 
FREDERICK  C.  DE  SUMICHRAST 

CHAPTER  I.     THE  FIRST   NOTIONS   OF    A    MAN 
POSSESSING  THE   SENSE   OF   SMELL    ONLY 

i.  THE  notions  of  our  statue  being  limited  to  the  sense  of 
smell,  can  include  odours  only.  It  cannot  have  any  conception 
of  extent,  of  form,  of  anything  external  to  itself,  or  to  its  sensa- 
tions, any  more  than  it  can  have  of  colour,  sound  or  taste. 

2.  If  we  offer  the  statue  a  rose,  it  will  be,  in  its  relation  to  us, 
a  statue  which  smells  a  rose;  but  in  relation  to  itself,  it  will  be 
merely  the  scent  itself  of  the  flower. 

Therefore,  according  to  the  objects  which  act  upon  its  organ, 
it  will  be  scent  of  rose,  of  carnation,  of  jasmine,  of  violet.  In  a 
word,  odours  are,  in  this  respect,  merely  modifications  of  the 
statue  itself  or  modes  of  being;  and  it  is  not  capable  of  believ- 
ing itself  aught  else,  since  these  are  the  only  sensations  it  can 
feel. 

.  3.  Let  those  philosophers  to  whom  it  is  so  evident  that  every- 
thing is  material,  put  themselves  for  a  moment  in  the  place  of 
the  statue,  and  let  them  reflect  how  they  could  suspect  that  there 
exists  anything  resembling  what  we  call  matter. 

4.  We  may  then  already  be  convinced  that  it  is  sufficient  to 
increase  or  to  diminish  the  number  of  the  senses  to  cause  us  to 
come  to  conclusions  wholly  different  from  those  which  are  at 
present  so  natural  to  us,  and  our  statue,  limited  to  the  sense  of 
smell,  may  thus  enable  us  to  comprehend  somewhat  the  class 
of  beings  whose  notions  are  the  most  restricted. 

*  From  Traite  des  Sensations,  Paris  and  London,  1754. 


348  CONDILLAC 

CHAPTER  II.  OF  THE  OPERATIONS  OF  THE 
MIND  IN  A  MAN  LIMITED  TO  THE  SENSE  OF 
SMELL,  AND  OF  THE  FACT  THAT  THE  DIF- 
FERENT DEGREES  OF  PLEASURE  AND  OF  PAIN 
CONSTITUTE  THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  THESE  OP- 
ERATIONS. 

1.  With  the  first  odour  the  capacity  for  feeling  of  our  statue 
is  wholly  taken  up  by  the  impression  made  upon  its  organ.    I 
call  this  attention. 

2.  From  that  moment  it  begins  to  enjoy  or  to  suffer:  for  if  the 
power  of  feeling  is  wholly  devoted  to  a  pleasant  odour,  enjoy- 
ment is  the  result ;  and  if  it  be  wholly  devoted  to  an  unpleasant 
odour,  suffering  results. 

3.  But  our  statue  has  yet  no  idea  of  the  different  changes  it 
may  experience.   Therefore  it  is  well;  or  it  is  not  well,  without 
the  desire  to  be  better.   Suffering  is  no  more  capable  of  exciting 
in  the  statue  a  longing  for  an  enjoyment  of  which  it  has  no  know- 
ledge, than  enjoyment  is  capable  of  making  it  fear  an  ill  of  which 
it  is  equally  ignorant.    Consequently,  no  matter  how  disagree- 
able the  first  sensation  may  be,  even  to  the  point  of  wounding 
the  organ  and  of  being  a  violent  pain,  it  cannot  cause  desire. 

While  suffering  with  us  is  always  accompanied  by  the  desire 
not  to  suffer,  it  cannot  be  so  with  the  statue.  Pain  creates  that 
desire  in  us  only  because  the  condition  of  non-suffering  is  al- 
ready known  to  us.  The  habit  we  have  contracted  of  looking 
upon  pain  as  a  thing  we  have  been  without  and  of  which  we  may 
be  freed,  is  the  cause  that  the  moment  we  suffer  we  immediately 
desire  not  to  suffer,  and  this  condition  is  inseparable  from  a 
state  of  suffering. 

But  the  statue  which,  at  the  first  moment,  is  conscious  of  its 
feeling  only  through  the  very  pain  it  experiences,  does  not  know 
whether  it  can  cease  to  be  a  statue  and  become  something 
else,  or  cease  to  exist.  It  has,  as  yet,  no  conception  of  change, 
of  succession  or  of  duration.  Therefore  it  exists  without  having 
the  power  to  form  a  desire. 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  349 

4.  Once  it  has  observed  that  it  is  capable  of  ceasing  to  be 
what  it  is,  in  order  to  become  once  more  what  it  was  before,  we 
shall  see  its  desires  spring  from  a  condition  of  pain,  which  it 
will  compare  with  a  condition  of  pleasure  recalled  to  it  by  mem- 
ory.   Thus  it  is  that  pleasure  and  pain  are  the  sole  principle 
which,  determining  all  the  operations  of  its  soul,  will  gradually 
raise  it  to  all  the  knowledge  of  which  it  is  capable;  and  in  order 
to  determine  the  progress  of  which  it  is  susceptible,  it  will  suffice 
to  observe  the  pleasure  it  will  have  to  desire,  the  pains  it  will 
have  to  fear,  and  the  influence  of  either  according  to  circum- 
stances. 

5.  Supposing  the   statue  to  have  no  remembrance  of  the 
changes  it  has  undergone,  then  on  every  occasion  of  a  change 
it  would  believe  itself  to  be  conscious  of  sensation  for  the  first 
time:  whole  years  would  be  swallowed  up  in  each  present  mo- 
ment. Therefore  by  ever  confining  its  attention  to  a  single  mode 
of  being,  it  would  never  reckon  two  together,  and  would  never 
note  their  relations  to  each  other :  it  would  enjoy  or  suffer,  with- 
out yet  knowing  desire  or  fear. 

6.  But  the  odour  it  smells  does  not,  so  soon  as  the  odoriferous 
object  ceases  to  act  upon  its  organ,  become  wholly  lost  to  the 
statue.  The  attention  it  bestowed  upon  it  still  retains  the  odour, 
and  there  remains  a  more  or  less  strong  impression  of  that  odour 
in  proportion  as  the  attention  itself  has  been  more  or  less  active. 
That  is  memory. 

7.  When,  therefore,  our  statue  is  a  new  odour,  there  is  still 
present  to  it  the  odour  that  it  was  the  moment  before.  Its  power 
of  feeling  is  divided  between  memory  and  the  sense  of  smell, 
the  former  of  these  faculties  being  attentive  to  the  past  sensation, 
while  the  latter  is  attentive  to  the  present  sensation. 

8.  Thus  there  are  in  the  statue  two  modes  of  feeling,  differ- 
ing only  in  this,  that  the  one  is  concerned  with  a  present  sensa- 
tion and  the  other  with  a  sensation  no  longer  existent,  but  the 
impression  of  which  still  remains.  Unaware  of  the  fact  that  there 
are  objects  which  act  upon  it,  unaware  even  of  the  fact  that  it 
possesses  an  organ,  the  statue  ordinarily  distinguishes  between 
the  remembrance  of  a  sensation  and  a  present  sensation  merely 


350  CONDILLAC 

by  dimly  feeling  what  it  has  been  and  feeling  strongly  what  it  is 
at  the  moment. 

9.  I  say  ordinarily,  because  remembrance  will  not  always  be 
a  faint  sentiment,  nor  sensation  a  lively  one.    For  every  time 
that  memory  recalls  very  strongly  these  states  of  being,  while, 
on  the  contrary,  the  organ  itself  receives  but  slight  impressions, 
the  consciousness  of  a  present  sensation  will  be  much  less  vivid 
than  the  remembrance  of  a  sensation  which  has  ceased  to  be. 

10.  As,  therefore,  one  odour  is  present  to  the  sense  of  smell 
through  the  impression  made  by  an  odoriferous  body  upon  the 
organ  itself,  so  is  another  odour  present  in  the  memory,  because 
the  impression  made  by  another  odoriferous  body  continues  in 
the  brain,  to  which  the  organ  of  smell  has  transmitted  it.   Pass- 
ing thus  through  two  states  of  being,  the  statue  feels  that  it  is 
no  longer  what  it  has  been :  the  knowledge  of  this  change  causes 
it  to  refer  the  first  state  to  a  different  moment  from  that  in  which 
it  experiences  the  second  state,  and  this  it  is  which  causes  the 
statue  to  make  a  distinction  between  existing  in  one  way  and 
having  existed  in  another  way. 

11.  The  statue  is  active  in  relation  to  one  of  its  two  modes  of 
feeling,  and  passive  in  relation  to  the  other.   It  is  active  when  it 
remembers  a  sensation,  because  it  has  within  itself  the  cause 
which  brings  about  that  recollection,  that  is  memory.    It  is 
passive  at  the  moment  when  it  experiences  a  sensation,  because 
the  cause  which  produces  it  is  external  to  the  statue  itself,  that 
is,  it  lies  in  the  odoriferous  bodies  which  act  upon  its  sense  of 
smell. 

12.  But,  unable  even  to  suspect  the  action  upon  itself  of  ob- 
jects external  to  it,  it  cannot  distinguish  between  a  cause  within 
itself  and  a  cause  outside  of  itself.   As  far  as  the  statue  is  con- 
cerned all  the  modifications  of  its  state  of  being  appear  to  it  due 
to  itself,  and  whether  it  experiences  a  sensation  or  merely  recalls 
one,  it  is  never  aware  of  aught  save  that  it  is  or  has  been  in  such 
and  such  a  state  of  being.    It  cannot,  therefore,  observe  any 
difference  between  the  condition  in  which  it  is  itself  active  or 
that  in  which  it  is  wholly  passive. 

13.  Nevertheless  the  more  numerous  the  occasions  for  the 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  351 

exercise  of  the  memory  the  more  readily  will  the  memory  act. 
And  it  is  in  this  way  that  the  statue  will  acquire  the  habit  of  re- 
calling without  an  effort  the  changes  through  which  it  has  passed, 
and  of  dividing  its  attention  between  what  it  has  been  and  what 
it  is.  For  habit  is  merely  the  facility  of  repeating  what  one  has 
done,  and  that  facility  is  acquired  by  the  reiteration  of  the  ac- 
tions. 

14.  If,  after  having  repeatedly  smelled  a  rose  and  a  carnation, 
the  statue  once  more  smells  a  rose,  the  passive  attention,  acting 
by  the  sense  of  smell,  will  be  wholly  given  up  to  the  present  odour 
of  the  rose,  and  the  active  attention,  which  acts  through  the 
memory,  will  be  divided  between  the  remains  of  the  scents  of 
the  rose  and  of  the  carnation.    Now  these  two  states  of  being 
cannot  share  the  capacity  for  feeling  without  comparing  them- 
selves one  with  the  other,  for  comparing  is  nothing  else  than 
bestowing  one's  attention  upon  two  ideas  at  the  same  time. 

15.  From  the  moment  that  comparison  exists,  judgment  exists. 
Our  statue  cannot  at  one  and  the  same  time  be  attentive  to  the 
scent  of  the  rose  and  that  of  the  carnation,  without  perceiving 
that  the  one  is  not  the  same  as  the  other,  and  it  cannot  be  atten- 
tive to  the  odour  of  a  rose  which  it  smells  and  to  that  of  a  rose 
which  it  has  previously  smelled  without  perceiving  that  they  are  a 
similar  modification.    Judgment,  therefore,  is  simply  the  percep- 
tion of  the  relation  between  two  ideas  which  are  being  compared. 

1 6.  As  the  comparisons  and  conclusions  become  more  fre- 
quent the  statue  acquires  greater  facility  in  making  them.    It 
contracts  therefore  the  habit  of  comparing  and  judging.    Con- 
sequently it  will  be  sufficient  to  make  it  smell  other  odours  in 
order  to  cause  it  to  make  additional  comparisons,  come  to  ad- 
ditional conclusions  and  contract  new  habits. 

17.  The  first  sensation  it  experiences  causes  no  surprise  to 
the  statue,  for  it  is  as  yet  unaccustomed  to  form  any  kind  of 
judgment,  nor  is  it  surprised  when,  on  smelling  successively 
different  odours,  it  perceives  each  but  for  a  moment.    Under 
these  conditions  it  does  not  abide  by  any  conclusion  it  has  formed, 
and  the  more  the  statue  changes  the  more  it  feels  itself  naturally 
inclined  to  change. 


352  CONDILLAC 

Nor  will  it  feel  any  more  surprise  if  we  lead  it,  by  unnotice- 
able  gradations,  from  the  habit  of  believing  itself  one  odour  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  is  another  odour,  for  the  statue  changes 
without  having  the  power  of  noticing  the  change. 

But  it  cannot  fail  to  be  surprised  if  it  passes  suddenly  from  a 
condition  to  which  it  was  accustomed  to  a  totally  different  state 
of  which  it  had  no  previous  conception. 

1 8.  This  amazement  causes  it  to  feel  more  distinctly  the  differ- 
ences between  its  modes  of  being.  The  more  abrupt  the  change 
from  one  to  the  other  the  greater  the  astonishment  of  the  statue, 
and. the  more  is  it  struck  by  the  contrast  between  the  pleasures 
and  the  pains  which  mark  these  changes.   Its  attention,  excited 
by  pains  which  are  more  keenly  felt,  applies  itself  with  greater 
acuteness  to  the  sensations  which  succeed  each  other.   It  there- 
fore compares  them  more  carefully;  it  judges  more  accurately 
their  relations  to  each  other.  Amazement  consequently  increases 
the  activity  of  the  operations  of  its  mind.    But,  because  it  is 
by  bringing  out  a  more  marked  opposition  between  feelings  of 
pleasure  and  feelings  of  pain  that  amazement  thus  increases 
activity  of  mind,  it  follows  that  it  is  always  pleasure  and  pain 
which  are  the  primary  motive  cause  of  its  faculties. 

19.  If  each  successive  odour  acts  with  equal  force  upon  the 
statue's  attention,  the  memory  will  remember  them  in  the  order 
in  which  they  followed  each  other,  and  they  will  by  this  means 
become  connected  one  with  another. 

If  the  series  is  numerous,  the  impression  made  by  the  most 
recent  odours,  being  the  most  recent,  will  be  the  strongest;  the 
impression  made  by  the  first  in  order  will  be  imperceptibly 
weakened,  then  disappear  altogether,  and  these  sensations  will 
be  as  if  they  had  never  been. 

But  if  there  be  any  which  have  acted  but  slightly  upon  the 
attention,  they  will  leave  no  impression  behind  them  and  will 
be  forgotten  as  soon  as  they  have  been  perceived. 

Finally  the  impressions  which  will  have  more  vividly  struck 
the  attention,  will  be  more  vividly  recalled,  and  will  so  strongly 
engage  it  that  they  will  be  capable  of  making  it  forget  the  others. 

20.  Memory  therefore  is  a  series  of  ideas  forming  a  sort  of 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  353 

chain.  It  is  this  connection  which  enables  us  to  pass  from  one 
idea  to  another,  and  to  recall  the  most  distant.  Therefore  we 
remember  an  idea  that  we  had  some  time  since  only  because 
we  recall,  more  or  less  rapidly,  the  intermediary  ideas. 

21.  In  the  case  of  the  second  sensation  our  statue  experiences, 
it  has  not  to  make  any  selection:  it  can  remember  but  the  first 
sensation.   It  will  merely  act  more  or  less  vigorously,  according 
as  it  is  inclined  thereto  by  the  intensity  of  the  pleasure  or  the 
pain. 

But  when  there  has  been  a  succession  of  changes,  the  statue, 
having  a  great  number  in  remembrance,  will  be  inclined  to  re- 
call preferably  those  which  can  best  contribute  to  its  happiness, 
passing  rapidly  over  the  others  or  dwelling  on  them  only  in  spite 
of  itself. 

To  make  this  truth  fully  plain  it  is  necessary  to  know  the 
different  degrees  of  pain  and  of  pleasure  of  which  we  are  suscep- 
tible, and  the  comparisons  which  may  be  drawn  between  them. 

22.  Pleasures  and  pains  are  of  two  kinds.   Some  pertain  more 
especially  to  the  body:  they  are  of  the  senses;  others  are  within 
the  memory  and  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul:  these  are  intellectual 
or  spiritual.  But  this  is  a  difference  which  the  statue  is  incapable 
of  observing. 

This  inability  preserves  it  from  an  error  which  we  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  avoid,  seeing  that  these  sentiments  do  not  differ  one  from 
another  as  greatly  as  we  imagine.  In  truth,  they  are  all  intellect- 
ual and  spiritual,  since  it  is  the  soul  only  which  is  capable  of 
feeling.  It  may  be  said  also  that  they  are  all  likewise  in  a  certain 
sense  sensible  or  corporeal,  since  the  body  is  their  sole  occasion- 
ing cause.  It  is  only  with  reference  to  their  relation  to  the  facul- 
ties of  the  body  or  those  of  the  soul  that  we  divide  them  into  two 
kinds. 

23.  Pleasure  may  dimmish  or  increase  by  degrees;  when  it 
diminishes,  it  tends  to  disappear,  and  it  vanishes  with  the  sensa- 
tion.  On  the  contrary,  when  it  increases,  it  may  attain  to  pain, 
because  the  impression  becomes  too  strong  for  the  organ.  Thus 
there  are  two  extreme  points  in  pleasure:  the  weaker  is  that  in 
which  sensation  begins  with  the  least  power;  it  is  the  first  step 


354  CONDILLAC 

from  nothingness  to  feeling;  the  strongest  is  that  when  the  sen- 
sation cannot  augment  without  ceasing  to  be  agreeable;  it  is  the 
condition  nearest  to  pain. 

The  impression  of  a  faint  pleasure  seems  to  become  concen- 
trated in  the  organ  which  transmits  it  to  the  soul.  But  when  it 
has  a  certain  amount  of  intensity,  it  is  accompanied  by  an  emo- 
tion which  spreads  throughout  the  whole  body.  This  emotion  is 
a  fact  which  our  experience  places  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt. 

Pain,  likewise,  may  increase  or  diminish.  When  it  increases 
it  tends  to  the  total  destruction  of  the  animal ;  but,  when  it  dimin- 
ishes, it  does  not,  like  pleasure,  tend  to  the  privation  of  all  sense 
of  feeling;  on  the  contrary,  the  moment  which  puts  an  end  to  it 
is  always  pleasant. 

24.  It  is  impossible  to  discover  among  these  various  degrees 
a  state  of  indifference;  with  the  first  sensation,  no  matter  how 
weak  it  may  be,  the  statue  is  necessarily  ill  or  well.   But  once  it 
shall  have  experienced  successively  the  sharpest  pains  and  the 
liveliest  pleasures,  it  will  consider  indifferent,  or  will  cease  to 
regard  as  agreeable  or  disagreeable,  the  weaker  sensations  which 
it  will  have  compared  with  the  stronger. 

We  may  therefore  suppose  that  there  are  for  it  divers  degrees, 
agreeable  or  disagreeable,  in  the  modes  of  being,  and  others 
which  it  regards  as  indifferent. 

25.  Whenever  it  is  ill  or  less  well,  it  recalls  its  past  sensations, 
compares  them  with  its  actual  condition,  and    feels  that  it  is 
important  that  it  should  become  once  more  what  it  was  formerly. 
Hence  springs  the  need  or  knowledge  of  a  state  of  well-being, 
which  it  concludes  that  it  needs  to  enjoy. 

Therefore  it  knows  that  it  has  wants  only  because  it  compares 
the  pain  from  which  it  is  suffering  with  the  pleasures  it  has  en- 
joyed. Destroy  in  it  the  remembrance  of  these  pleasures,  and 
the  statue  will  be  ill,  without  suspecting  that  it  has  any  want, 
for,  in  order  to  feel  the  need  of  anything,  one  must  be  acquainted 
with  it.  Now,  in  the  above  supposititious  case,  the  statue  is  not 
acquainted  with  any  other  state  of  being  than  that  in  which  it 
finds  itself.  But  once  it  recalls  a  happier  state,  its  existing  con- 
dition at  once  causes  it  to  feel  the  want  of  that  state.  Thus  it  is 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  355 

that  pleasure  and  pain  will  always  determine  the  action  of  its 
faculties. 

26.  The  want  experienced  by  the  statue  may  be  caused  by  a 
genuine  pain,  by  a  disagreeable  sensation,  by  a  sensation  less 
agreeable  than  those  which  have  preceded  it,  or,  finally,  by  a 
state  of  languor,  in  which  it  is  reduced  to  one  of  those  states  of 
being  which  it  has  become  accustomed  to  consider  indifferent. 

If  its  need  is  caused  by  an  odour  which  gives  it  lively  pain,  the 
need  appropriates  the  power  of  feeling  almost  wholly,  and  leaves 
only  strength  enough  to  the  memory  to  remind  the  statue  that  it 
has  not  always  been  so  ill.  Then  it  becomes  incapable  of  compar- 
ing the  various  states  of  being  through  which  it  has  passed ;  it  is 
unable  to  judge  which  is  the  most  agreeable.  All  that  it  desires 
is  to  emerge  from  that  condition  in  order  to  enjoy  another,  no 
matter  what  it  may  be;  and  if  it  were  acquainted  with  a  means 
of  escaping  from  its  suffering,  it  would  apply  all  its  faculties  to 
the  making  use  of  that  means.  It  is  thus  that  in  serious  sickness 
we  cease  to  desire  the  pleasures  we  formerly  ardently  sought,  and 
think  only  of  regaining  our  health. 

When  it  is  a  less  agreeable  sensation  which  gives  rise  to  the 
want,  there  are  two  cases  to  be  distinguished:  either  the  plea- 
sures with  which  the  statue  compares  that  sensation  have  been 
lively,  and  accompanied  by  the  strongest  emotions,  or  else  they 
have  been  less  powerful  and  have  scarcely  moved  it. 

In  the  former  case,  the  past  happiness  is  recalled  with  the 
greater  force  the  more  it  differs  from  the  immediate  sensation. 
The  emotion  which  accompanied  it  is  partly  reproduced,  and 
drawing  to  itself  almost  the  totality  of  the  power  of  feeling,  does 
not  permit  the  agreeable  feelings  which  have  preceded  or  fol- 
lowed it  to  be  noticed.  The  statue,  then,  experiencing  no  dis- 
traction, compares  more  accurately  that  happiness  with  its  pre- 
sent state;  it  judges  more  truly  how  greatly  that  state  differs 
from  the  former,  and,  as  it  endeavours  to  depict  it  to  itself  in 
the  most  vivid  manner,  the  privation  of  that  happiness  gives  rise 
to  a  more  insistent  need,  and  the  possession  of  it  becomes  a 
much  more  necessary  welfare. 

In  the  second  case,  on  the  contrary,  that  state  of  happiness 


356  CONDILLAC 

is  recalled  with  much  less  intensity:  other  pleasures  divide  the 
attention;  the  advantages  it  offers  are  less  felt;  it  reproduces  but 
little  emotion  or  none  at  all.  Therefore  the  statue  is  less  inter- 
ested in  its  return,  and  does  not  apply  its  faculties  to  it  so  ear- 
nestly. 

Finally,  if  the  need  springs  from  one  of  those  sensations  which 
it  has  got  into  the  habit  of  considering  indifferent,  it  lives  at  first 
without  feeling  either  pain  or  pleasure.  But  this  state,  compared 
with  the  happy  situations  in  which  it  has  found  itself,  soon 
becomes  disagreeable  to  the  statue,  and  the  pain  it  then  expe- 
riences is  what  we  term  ennui.  Meanwhile  the  ennui  lasts,  in- 
creases, becomes  unbearable,  and  determines  powerfully  all  the 
faculties  towards  that  happiness  of  which  the  statue  feels  the 
loss. 

This  ennui  may  be  as  crushing  as  pain,  in  which  case  the  statue 
has  no  other  thought  than  to  get  rid  of  it,  and  turns,  without 
selecting,  to  all  the  conditions  of  being  which  are  fitted  to  cause 
it  to  disappear.  But  if  we  diminish  the  burden  of  ennui  the 
condition  of  the  statue  will  be  less  unhappy,  it  will  feel  less  im- 
periously the  need  of  being  rid  of  it,  it  will  be  in  a  condition  to 
devote  its  attention  to  all  the  agreeable  sentiments  of  which  it 
has  any  recollection,  and  it  is  the  pleasure,  the  remembrance  of 
which  it  recalls  in  the  liveliest  manner,  which  will  draw  all  the 
faculties  to  itself. 

27.  There  are  then  two  principles  which  determine  the  degree 
of  action  of  its  faculties :  on  the  one  hand,  the  lively  remembrance 
of  a  well-being  it  has  lost ;  on  the  other,  the  small  amount  of  plea- 
sure in  the  sensation  actually  felt,  or  else  the  pain  by  which  it  is 
accompanied. 

When  these  two  principles  unite,  the  statue  makes  a  greater 
effort  to  recall  what  it  has  ceased  to  be,  and  it  feels  less  what  it 
actually  is.  For  its  power  of  feeling  being  necessarily  limited, 
memory  cannot  attract  a  part  of  this  power  to  itself  without 
leaving  less  to  the  sense  of  smell.  Even  if  the  action  of  this  faculty 
should  be  so  strong  as  to  appropriate  to  itself  the  whole  power 
of  feeling,  the  statue  will  not  observe  any  more  the  impression 
made  upon  its  organ,  and  it  will  recall  its  former  condition  in  so 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  357 

lively  a  manner  that  it  will  believe  itself  to  be  still  in  that  con- 
dition. 

28.  But  if  its  actual  condition  is  the  happiest  it  knows,  then 
pleasure  induces  it  to  enjoy  it  by  preference.   There  no  longer 
exists  any  cause  capable  of  inducing  the  mind  to  act  strongly 
enough  to  overbear  the  sense  of  smell  to  the  extent  of  destroying 
the  feeling  in  it.  Pleasure,  on  the  contrary,  concentrates  at  least 
the  greater  part  of  the  attention  or  of  the  capacity  for  feeling 
upon  the  present  sensation;  and  if  the  statue  even  yet  recalls 
what  it  has  been,  it  is  because  the  comparison  with  its  present 
state  causes  it  to  enjoy  its  happiness  still  more. 

29.  Here  then  are  two  of  the  effects  of  memory:  the  one  is  a 
sensation  which  is  recalled  as  strongly  as  if  it  were  acting  upon 
the  organ  itself;  the  other  is  a  sensation  of  which  naught  remains 
but  a  faint  recollection. 

There  are  thus  in  the  action  of  this  faculty  of  memory  two 
degrees  which  we  can  establish:  the  weaker  is  that  in  which  it 
causes  pleasure  in  the  past  to  but  a  slight  extent ;  the  other  that 
in  which  it  causes  enjoyment  of  that  past  just  as  if  the  past 
were  the  present. 

It  is  called  memory  when  it  recalls  things  as  past  only,  and  it 
is  called  imagination  when  it  recalls  them  so  strongly  that  they 
appear  to  be  present.  Imagination,  therefore,  is  found  in  our 
statue,  as  well  as  memory,  and  these  two  faculties  differ  in  degree 
only.  Memory  is  the  beginning  of  an  imagination  which  is  yet 
still  weak;  imagination  is  memory  itself,  which  has  attained  the 
fullest  power  of  which  it  is  susceptible. 

Having  distinguished  two  forms  of  attention  in  the  statue, 
the  one  acting  through  the  sense  of  smell,  the  other  through  the 
memory,  we  may  now  note  a  third,  which  acts  through  the  im- 
agination, and  the  peculiarity  of  which  is  to  stay  the  impressions 
of  the  senses  in  order  to  substitute  in  their  place  a  feeling  inde- 
pendent of  external  objects. 

30.  Nevertheless  when  the  statue  imagines  a  sensation  which 
it  no  longer  is  experiencing,  and  when  it  recalls  it  in  as  lively  a 
manner  as  if  it  were  still  experiencing  it,  it  is  not  aware  that  there 
exists  in  itself  a  cause  which  produces  the  same  effect  as  would 


358  CONDILLAC 

be  produced  by  an  odoriferous  body  acting  upon  its  organ  of 
smell.  It  cannot  therefore  distinguish,  as  we  do,  between  im- 
agination and  feeling. 

31.  But  we  may  presume  that  the  imagination  of  the  statue 
will  be  more  active  than  is  our  own.  Its  power  of  feeling  is  wholly 
concentrated  on  a  single  kind  of  sensation;  the  whole  force  of 
its  faculties  is  devoted  solely  to  odours;  nothing  can  distract 
it.   But  we  are  divided  between  a  multitude  of  sensations  and 
ideas,  which  are  constantly  assailing  us,  and,  devoting  to  our 
imagination  but  a  part  of  our  powers,  we  imagine  but  feebly. 
Besides,  our  senses,  continually  on  their  guard  against  our  im- 
agination, warn  us  constantly  of  the  objects  we  seek  to  imagine, 
while,  on  the  contrary,  the  imagination  of  our  statue  is  entirely 
free  to  act.  Therefore  it  recalls  trustingly  an  odour  which  it  has 
enjoyed,  and  it  does  actually  enjoy  it,  just  as  if  its  sense  of  smell 
were  affected  by  it.  Finally  the  ease  with  which  we  can  put  aside 
things  offensive  to  us,  and  seek  those  the  enjoyment  of  which 
we  prize,  further  contributes  to  render  our  imagination  lazy. 
But  since  our  statue  can  escape  from  a  disagreeable  feeling 
only  by  imagining  strongly  a  condition  of  being  in  which  it  takes 
pleasure,  its  imagination  is  more  exercised  by  it,  and  must  pro- 
duce effects  out  of  the  power  of  our  own  to  attain. 

32.  Yet  there  is  one  case  in  which  the  action  of  the  statue's 
imagination  is  wholly  suspended,  and  even  also  that  of  memory, 
It  is  when  a  sensation  is  so  vivid  as  to  fulfil  completely  the  power 
of  feeling.  Then  the  statue  is  wholly  passive.  Pleasure  becomes 
for  it  a  species  of  intoxication,  in  which  there  is  scarcely  any 
enjoyment,  and  pain  a  crushing  in  which  it  scarcely  suffers. 

33.  But  the  moment  the  sensation  loses  some  degrees  of  its 
intensity,  forthwith  the  faculties  of  the  soul  become  active  once 
more,  and  need  becomes  once  again  the  cause  which  determines 
their  action. 

34.  The  modifications  which  must  give  the  greatest  pleasure 
to  the  statue  are  not  always  those  it  has  most  recently  expe- 
rienced.  They  may  occur  in  the  beginning  or  in  the  middle  of 
the  chain  of  its  knowledge,  or  at  the  end.   Imagination,  there- 
fore, is  frequently  compelled  to  pass  rapidly  over  intermediate 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  359 

ideas.  It  brings  nearer  the  more  distant,  changes  the  order  they 
were  in  in  the  memory,  and  out  of  them  forms  an  entirely  new 
chain. 

The  connection  of  ideas  does  not  then  follow  the  same  order 
in  its  faculties.  The  more  that  order  it  derives  from  the  imagi- 
nation becomes  familiar  to  the  statue,  the  less  will  it  preserve 
that  order  which  memory  has  furnished  it  with.  Thus  ideas  are 
connected  in  innumerable  different  ways,  and  often  the  statue 
will  recall  less  the  order  in  which  it  experienced  its  sensations 
than  the  order  in  which  it  has  imagined  them  to  be* 

35.  All  these  series,  however,  are  formed  only  through  the 
comparisons  which  have  been  made  between  each  preceding 
and  each  succeeding  link  in  the  chain,  and  through  the  conclu- 
sions which  have  been  drawn  concerning  their  relation  to  each 
other.    This  connection  becomes  stronger  in  proportion  as  the 
use  of  the  faculties  strengthens  the  habits  of  recollection  and 
imagination;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  we  possess  the  surpris- 
ing advantage  of  recognizing  sensations  we  have  already  expe- 
rienced. 

36.  For,  indeed,  if  we  cause  our  statue  to  smell  an  odour  with 
which  it  is  familiar,  it  is  a  state  of  being  which  it  has  compared, 
which  it  has  drawn  a  conclusion  from,  and  which  it  has  linked 
to  some  of  the  parts  of  the  series  which  its  memory  is  in  the  habit 
of  reviewing.   That  is  why  it  concludes  that  the  state  in  which 
it  finds  itself  is  the  same  as  that  in  which  it  formerly  found  itself. 
But  an  odour  which  it  has  not  yet  smelled  does  not  come  within 
this  case,  and  therefore  must  strike  it  as  quite  new. 

37.  It  is  needless  to  point  out  that  when  it  recognizes  a  state 
of  being  it  does  so  without  being  able  to  account  for  the  fact. 
The  cause  of  a  phenomenon  of  this  sort  is  so  difficult  to  make 
out  that  all  men  who  do  not  know  how  to  observe  and  analyze 
what  is  going  on  within  them,  are  unable  to  perceive  it. 

38.  But  when  the  statue  goes  on  a  long  time  without  thinking 
of  a  state  of  being,  what  becomes,  during  that  period,  of  the  idea 
it  has  formed  of  that  state?   When,  later,  that  idea  is  recalled 
by  the  memory,  whence  does  it  spring  ?  Is  it  in  the  soul  or  in  the 
body  that  it  has  been  preserved  ?  In  neither. 


360  CONDILLAC 

It  is  not  in  the  soul,  since  an  alteration  in  the  brain  is  sufficient 
to  destroy  the  power  of  recalling  the  idea. 

It  is  not  in  the  body.  The  physical  cause  alone  could  be  pre- 
served there,  and  for  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  suppose  that 
the  brain  would  remain  precisely  in  the  condition  into  which  it 
was  brought  by  the  sensation  which  the  statue  remembers.  But 
how  can  that  supposition  be  maintained  in  view  of  the  con- 
tinual movements  of  the  mind?  How  can  it  be  maintained, 
especially  when  one  considers  the  innumerable  ideas  stored  in 
the  memory?  The  phenomenon  may  be  explained  in  a  much 
simpler  way. 

I  experience  a  given  sensation  when  there  occurs  in  one  of  my 
organs  a  movement  which  is  transmitted  to  the  brain.  If  the 
same  movement  originates  in  the  brain  and  is  transmitted  to  the 
organ,  I  believe  I  experience  a  sensation  which  I  do  not  really 
experience:  it  is  an  illusion.  But  if  the  movement  begins  and 
ends  in  the  brain,  I  remember  the  sensation  I  have  experienced. 

When  the  statue  recalls  an  idea,  then,  it  is  not  because  the 
idea  has  been  preserved  in  the  body  or  in  the  soul;  it  is  because 
the  movement,  which  is  the  physical  and  occasioning  cause  of 
it,  is  reproduced  in  the  brain.  This,  however,  is  not  the  place  to 
venture  on  conjectures  concerning  the  mechanism  of  memory. 
We  preserve  the  remembrance  of  our  sensations,  we  recall  them, 
although  we  have  been  a  long  time  without  thinking  of  them. 
To  bring  this  about  it  is  sufficient  that  they  should  have  strongly 
impressed  themselves  upon  us,  or  that  we  should  have  expe-' 
rienced  them  repeatedly.  These  facts  authorize  me  to  suppose 
that  our  statue,  organized  as  we  are,  is,  like  ourselves,  able  to 
remember. 

39.  We  conclude  then  that  it  has  contracted  several  habits: 
the  habit  of  bestowing  its  attention;  the  habit  of  remember- 
ing; a  third  habit  of  comparing;  a  fourth  of  judging;  a  fifth  of 
imagining;  and  finally  one  of  recognizing. 

40.  The  same  causes  which  have  produced  habits  are  alone 
capable  of  maintaining  them.   I  mean  that  habits  will  become 
lost  unless  they  are  renewed  by  actions  reiterated  from  time  to 
time.  In  that  case  our  statue  will  recall  neither  the  comparisons 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  361 

between  states  of  being  which  it  has  made,  nor  the  conclusions 
it  has  drawn  from  them,  and  it  will  experience  a  state  of  being 
for  the  third  or  fourth  time  without  being  able  to  recognize  it. 

41.  But  we  may  ourselves  help  to  maintain  the  practice  of  its 
memory  and  of  all  its  faculties.   It  is  sufficient  to  induce  it,  by 
different  degrees  of  pleasure  or  of  pain,  to  cling- to  its  state  of 
being  or  to  escape  from  it.  The  skill  with  which  we  make  use  of 
its  sensations  will  enable  us  to  fortify  and  extend  more  and  more 
its  habits.  There  is  even  ground  for  conjecturing  that  the  statue 
will  distinguish,  in  a  succession  of  odours,  differences  which  we 
fail  to  note.   Compelled  to  apply  all  its  faculties  to  a  single  sort 
of  sensation,  may  not  the  statue  exhibit  more  discernment  therein 
than  we  do? 

42.  Yet  the  relations  which  its  judgment  can  discover  are 
very  few  in  number.   It  merely  is  aware  that  one  state  of  being 
is  the  same  as  a  state  in  which  it  has  already  been,  or  else  that  it 
is  different;  that  the  one  is  agreeable,  the  other  disagreeable, 
and  both  in  a  greater  or  less  degree. 

But  will  it  distinguish  between  several  odours  smelled  to- 
gether? That  is  a  power  of  discernment  which  we  ourselves 
acquire  only  by  long  practice,  and  even  then  within  very  narrow 
limits,  for  there  is  no  one  who  can  recognize  by  the  sense  of 
smell  all  the  components  of  a  sachet.  Now  it  seems  tb  me  that 
any  mingling  of  odours  must  be  a  sachet  to  our  statue. 

It  is  the  knowledge  of  odoriferous  bodies,  as  we  shall  see  later, 
-which  has  taught  us  to  recognize  two  odours  within  a  third. 
After  having  smelled  in  turn  a  rose  and  a  jonquil,  we  smelled 
them  together,  and  thus  learned  that  the  sensation  caused  in 
us  by  these  two  flowers  together  is  composed  of  two  other  sen- 
sations. But  if  the  odours  be  multiplied  we  can  distinguish 
those  only  which  are  strongest,  and  even  then  we  shall  not  dis- 
tinguish these  if  the  mingling  has  been  made  so  skilfully  that 
no  one  odour  shall  prevail  over  the  others.  In  such  a  case  they 
appear  to  pass  one  into  another,  like  colours  ground  up  to- 
gether; they  unite  and  mingle  so  thoroughly  that  not  one  of  them 
remains  what  it  originally  was,  and  of  many  odours  one  alone 
remains. 


362  CONDILLAC 

So  if  our  statue,  at  the  first  moment  of  its  existence,  smells 
two  odours,  it  will  not  conclude  that  it  is  at  one  and  the  same 
time  in  two  states  of  being.  But  let  us  suppose  that  having 
learned  to  know  them  separately,  it  smells  them  together:  will 
it  recognize  them  ?  That  does  not  appear  probable  to  me.  For, 
unaware  that  they  come  from  two  different  bodies,  nothing  can 
lead  it  to  suspect  that  the  sensation  it  experiences  is  the  sum  of 
two  other  sensations.  Indeed,  if  neither  prevail,  it  would  be  the 
same  with  us,  and  if  one  of  the  two  is  fainter,  it  will  merely  alter 
the  stronger  and  they  will  together  seem  to  be  a  simple  state  of 
being.  To  convince  ourselves  of  this  we  need  only  smell  odours 
which  we  are  not  accustomed  to  refer  to  separate  bodies;  I  am 
persuaded  that  we  would  not  venture  to  affirm  whether  they  are 
one  odour  or  several  odours.  And  this  is  precisely  the  case  of  the 
statue. 

Therefore  the  statue  acquires  discernment  only  through  the 
attention  it  gives  at  one  and  the  same  time  to  a  state  of  being 
which  it  is  actually  experiencing  and  to  another  state  which  it 
has  previously  experienced.  Thus  its  judgments  do  not  bear 
upon  two  odours  smelled  at  one  and  the  same  time,  but  upon 
successive  sensations. 

CHAPTER  III.  OF  THE  DESIRES,  THE  PASSIONS, 
LOVE,  HATE,  HOPE,  FEAR  AND  WILL  IN  A 
MAN  LIMITED  TO  THE  SENSE  OF  SMELL 

1.  We  have  just  seen  the  character  of  the  various  kinds  of 
wants,  and  that  they  are  the  causes  of  the  degrees  of  intensity 
with  which  the  faculties  of  the  soul  attach  themselves  to  a  state 
of  well-being,  the  enjoyment  of  which  becomes  a  necessity.  Now 
desire  is  nothing  else  than  the  action  of  these  faculties,  when 
these  are  directed  towards  the  thing  of  which  we  feel  the  need. 

2.  Therefore  every  desire  presupposes  that  the  statue  conceives 
of  a  condition  better  than  the  one  wherein  it  finds  itself  at  the 
time,  and  that  it  compares  the  difference  between  two  states  of 
being  succeeding  each  other.  If  they  differ  but  little,  its  suffering 
is  less,  in  consequence  of  the  deprivation  of  the  mode  of  being 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  363 

that  it  desires;  and  I  give  the  name  of  discomfort  or  slight  dis- 
content, to  the  feeling  it  experiences.  In  such  a  case  both  the 
action  of  its  faculties  is  less  energetic  and  its  desires  are  less 
strong.  On  the  contrary,  it  suffers  more  if  the  difference  be  great, 
and  I  give  the  name  of  anxiety,  or  even  of  torment,  to  the  im- 
pression it  then  experiences.  Therefore  the  difference  between 
these  two  states  is  the  measure  of  the  desire,  and  it  is  sufficient 
to  remember  by  how  much  the  action  of  the  faculties  gains  or 
loses  in  intensity  in  order  to  know  all  the  degrees  of  desires. 

3.  For  instance,  they  are  never  so  violent  as  when  the  facul- 
ties of  the  statue  tend  to  a  state  of  well-being  the  loss  of  which 
causes  an  anxiety  the  greater  in  proportion  to  the  difference  of 
that  wished-for  state  from  the  existing  state.    In  such  cases, 
nothing  can  distract  the  statue's  attention  from  that  condition: 
it  recalls  it,  it  imagines  it;  all  its  faculties  are  concentrated  upon 
it.    Consequently  the  more  it  desires  it,  the  more  it  accustoms 
itself  to  desire.  In  a  word,  it  feels  for  it  what  we  call  a  passion, 
that  is,  a  desire  which  prevents  our  feeling  any  other,  or  at  least 
is  the  most  powerful  one. 

4.  This  passion  persists  so  long  as  the  state  which  is  the  object 
of  it,  continues  to  appear  the  most  agreeable,  and  so  long  as  the 
absence  of  that  state  .is  accompanied  by  the  same  anxieties.  But 
it  is  replaced  by  another  passion,  if  the  statue  has  occasion  to 
become  accustomed  to  another  condition  to  which  it  will  give 
the  preference. 

5.  From  the  moment  that  enjoyment,  suffering,  need,  desire, 
passion  exist  in  the  statue,  love  and  hate  exist  likewise.   For  the 
statue  loves  a  pleasant  odour,  which  it  enjoys  or  desires.  It  hates 
a  disagreeable  odour,  which  causes  it  to  suffer;  finally,  it  likes 
less  a  less  agreeable  odour,  which  it  would  fain  exchange  for 
another.   In  proof  of  this,  it  is  sufficient  to  note  that  to  love  is 
always  synonymous  with  to  enjoy  or  to  desire,  and  that  to  hate 
is  similarly  synonymous  with  suffering  from  discomfort,  from 
discontent,  in  the  presence  of  some  object. 

6.  As  there  may  be  several  gradations  in  the  amount  of  anxiety 
caused  by  the  loss  of  a  pleasant  object,  and  in  the  discontent 
caused  by  the  sight  of  an  odious  one,  so  may  similar  gradations 


364  CONDILLAC 

be  noted  in  love  and  in  hate.  Indeed  we  even  have  words  to 
denote  them:  such  as  taste,  inclination,  tendency,  aloofness, 
repugnance,  disgust.  Although  thesex  words  cannot  be  substi- 
tuted for  the  words  love,  hate,  none  the  less  the  feelings  they 
express  are  but  the  beginnings  of  these  passions;  they  differ  from 
these  merely  in  being  weaker. 

7.  For  the  rest,  the  love  of  which  our  statue  is  capable,  is  but 
love  of  self,  or  that  which  bears  the  name  of  self-love.  For,  in 
truth,  it  loves  but  itself,  seeing  that  the  things  it  loves  are  but 
its  own  states  of  being. 

8.  Hope  and  fear  spring  from  the  same  principle  as  love  and 
hate. 

Our  statue,  being  in  the  habit  of  experiencing  agreeable  or 
disagreeable  sensations,  is  led  to  conclude  that  it  can  experience 
further  sensations  of  the  same  sort.  If  this  conclusion  combines 
with  a  sensation  which  pleases,  it  produces  hope;  and  if  it 
combines  with  a  sensation  that  displeases,  it  causes  fear.  Foi, 
in  fact,  to  hope  is  to  flatter  one's  self  that  one  shall  possess  a 
certain  good;  to  fear,  is  to  be  threatened  by  an  evil.  It  may  be 
noted  that  hope  and  fear  contribute  to  increase  desire.  It  is  from 
the  conflict  of  these  two  feelings  that  the  most  violent  passions 
arise. 

9.  The  remembrance  that  it  has  satisfied  some  of  its  desires 
causes  our  statue  to  hope  all  the  more  to  be  able  to  satisfy  other 
desires,  that,  unaware  of  the  obstacles  which  stand  in  the  way, 
it  does  not  see  why  what  it  desires  should  not  be  within  its  power, 
like  what  it  has  desired  on  other  occasions.   It  is  true  that  the 
statue  cannot  make  sure  of  this,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has 
no  proof  of  the  contrary.    If  it  more  particularly  remembers  that 
the  same  desire  which  it  feels  has  formerly  been  followed  by 
enjoyment,  it  will  believe  itself  capable  of  realizing  it  in  propor- 
tion as  its  want  of  it  becomes  greater.  Thus  two  causes  will  con- 
tribute to  inspire  it  with  confidence:  the  knowledge  that  it  has 
satisfied  such  a  desire  before,  and  its  interest  in  satisfying  it 
once  again.    Henceforth  the  statue  will  not  be  satisfied  with  de- 
siring; it  will  will;  for  by  will  is  meant  an  absolute  desire,  such 
that  we  consider  that  a  thing  we  desire  is  in  our  power. 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  365 

CHAPTER  IV.    OF  THE  IDEAS  OF  A  MAN  LIMITED 
TO  THE  SENSE  OF  SMELL 

1.  Our  statue  cannot  pass  successively  through  various  states 
of  being,  some  pleasant  and  some  unpleasant  to  it,  without  ob- 
serving that  it  passes  alternately  from  a  condition  of  pleasure 
to  a  condition  of  pain,  or  vice  versa.   In  the  former  are  content 
and  enjoyment;  in  the  latter,  discontent  and  suffering.   There- 
fore it  preserves  in  its  memory  the  notions  of  content  and  dis- 
content common  to  several  modes  of  being;  and  it  need  then 
only  consider  its  sensations  in  these  two  connections  in  order  to 
divide  them  into  two  classes,  in  each  of  which  it  will  learn  to 
distinguish  degrees,  in  proportion  as  it  practices  the  habit  of 
distinguishing. 

2.  To  abstract,  is  to  separate  one  idea  from  another  to  which 
it  appears  to  be  naturally  united.    Now  when  the  statue  ob- 
serves that  the  notions  of  content  and  discontent  are  common 
to  several  of  the  modifications  of  its  state  of  being,  it  acquires 
the  habit  of  separating  them  from  some  particular  modification, 
from  which  it  had  not  at  first  distinguished  them.    It  therefore 
forms  abstract  notions  of  them,  and  these  notions  become  gen- 
eral, because  they  are  common  to  several  of  its  states  of  being. 

3.  But  when  it  smells  in  succession  several  flowers  of  the  same 
species,  it  will  always  experience  one  and  the  same  sensation, 
and  will  have  but  one  particular  notion  of  the  subject.   For  in- 
stance, the  perfume  of  the  violet  cannot  be,  for  the  statue,  an 
abstract  notion,  common  to  several  flowers,  since  the  statue  is 
not  aware  of  the  existence  of  violets.    Therefore  it  is  only  the 
particular  notion  of  a  state  of  being  which  is  proper  to  the  statue. 
Consequently,  all  its  abstractions  are  confined  to  more  or  less 
agreeable  modifications,  and  to  others  more  or  less  disagreeable. 

4.  So  long  as  the  statue  had  particular  notions  only,  it  could 
desire  only  such  and  such  a  state  of  being.  But  so  soon  as  it  has 
abstract  notions,  its  desires,  its  love,  hate,  hope,  fear,  will,  may 
have  for  their  object  pleasure  or  pain  in  general. 

However,  that  love  of  well-being  in  general  comes  about  only 


366  CONDILLAC 

when,  among  the  notions  which  memory  recalls  confusedly  to 
the  statue,  the  latter  does  not  yet  distinguish  what  will  give  it 
most  pleasure ;  but,  so  soon  as  it  believes  it  does  perceive  it,  all 
its  desires  tend  towards  a  particular  mode  of  being. 

5.  The  statue  being  able  to  distinguish  the  states  of  being  it 
experiences  has,  therefore,  some  notion  of  numbers;  it  has  the 
notion  of  unity  every  time  it  experiences  a  sensation,  or  remem- 
bers one ;  and  it  has  the  notion  of  two  or  of  three  of  these,  as  often 
as  its  memory  recalls  to  it  two  or  three  distinct  states  of  being, 
for  it  then  takes  cognizance  of  itself  as  having  been  an  odour,  or 
as  having  been  two  or  three  odours  in  succession. 

6.  It  cannot  distinguish  between  two  odours  which  it  smells 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  Therefore  the  sense  of  smell  can,  of 
itself,  give  it  only  the  notion  of  unity,  and  the  notion  of  number 
can  come  to  it  from  memory  alone. 

7.  But  the  statue  will  not  carry  its  knowledge  of  this  subject 
very  far.  Like  a  child  which  has  not  learned  to  count,  the  statue 
will  be  unable  to  determine  the  number  of  its  notions  if  the  series 
of  them  be  at  all  large. 

It  seems  to  me  that,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  largest  number 
it  is  capable  of  knowing  accurately,  it  is  sufficient  to  consider 
how  far  we  ourselves  could  count  with  the  sign  one.  When  the 
amounts  formed  by  the  repetition  of  this  sign  cannot  be  grasped 
at  once  and  distinctly,  we  have  the  right  to  conclude  that  the 
precise  notions  of  the  numbers  which  these  amounts  contain, 
cannot  be  acquired  by  memory  alone. 

Now,  when  I  say  "one  and  one,"  I  have  the  notion  of  two; 
and  when  I  say  "one,  one  and  one,"  I  have  the  notion  of  three. 
But  if  I  had  but  this  single  sign  with  which  to  express  ten,  fifteen, 
twenty,  I  could  never  determine  the  notions  of  these  numbers, 
for  I  could  not  make  sure,  through  memory  alone,  that  I  had 
repeated  one  as  many  times  as  each  of  these  numbers  requires 
that  I  should  repeat  it.  It  even  seems  to  me  that  I  could  not,  by 
this  means,  attain  to  the  notion  of  four,  and  that  I  would  need 
to  have  recourse  to  some  artifice  in  order  to  be  sure  that  I  had 
repeated  the  unit  sign  neither  too  seldom  nor  too  often.  I  would 
say,  for  instance,  "one,  one"  and  then  "one,  one,"  but  that 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  367 

proves  that  memory  does  not  distinctly  grasp  four  unities  at 
once.  Beyond  three,  therefore,  it  presents  but  an  indefinite 
multitude.  Those  who  believe  that  memory  alone  can  extend 
our  notions  farther,  will  use  another  number  instead  of  three. 
It  is  sufficient,  for  the  purposes  of  my  argument,  that  there  be 
some  number  beyond  which  the  memory  shows  us  merely  a 
thoroughly  vague  multitude.  It  is  the  art  of  signs  which  has  en-  * 
abled  us  to  carry  light  farther.  But  however  vast  the  numbers 
we  can  make  out,  there  always  remains  a  multitude  which  it 
is  not  possible  to  determine,  and  which  is  therefore  called  the 
infinite,  but  which  would  have  been  more  accurately  called 
the  indefinite.  That  single  change  in  terms  would  have  avoided 
many  errors. 

We  may  therefore  conclude  that  our  statue  will  grasp  distinctly 
three  only  of  these  states  of  being.  Beyond  that  it  will  perceive 
a  multitude,  which  will  be  to  it  what  the  pretended  notion  of  the 
infinite  is  to  us.  And  indeed  the  statue  will  have  more  reason 
to  be  mistaken  in  this  respect,  for  it  is  incapable  of  the  reason- 
ings which  would  clear  its  error  away.  Therefore  it  will  see  the 
infinite  in  that  multitude  exactly  as  if  it  were  indeed  the  infinite. 

Finally  we  note  that  its  idea  of  unity  is  an  abstract  notion,  for 
it  feels  all  its  states  of  being  have  this  general  relation  that  each 
is  distinct  from  any  other. 

8.  Possessing  particular  notions  and  general  notions  it  con- 
sequently is  acquainted  with  two  kinds  of  truth. 

The  odours  of  each  species  of  flowers  are,  for  the  statue,  par- 
ticular notions  only,  and  it  will  consequently  be  the  same  with 
every  truth  it  perceives  when  it  distinguishes  one  odour  from 
another. 

But  it  possesses  abstract  notions  of  the  agreeable  state  of 
being  and  of  the  disagreeable.  On  this  subject  then  it  will  have 
general  truths.  It  will  know,  that  in  general  its  modifications 
differ  one  from  another,  and  that  they  cause  it  to  experience 
more  or  less  pleasure  or  discontent. 

But  these  general  notions  presuppose  in  the  statue  particular 
notions,  since  the  particular  ideas  have  preceded  the  abstract 
ideas. 


368  CONDILLAC 

9.  As  it  is  in  the  habit  of  being,  of  ceasing  to  be,  and  of  again 
being  the  same  odour,  it  will  conclude,  when  it  is  not  that  odour, 
that  it  is  capable  of  again  being  the  odour,  and  when  it  is  the 
odour,  that  it  is  capable  of  not  being  it.  Thus  it  will  have  occa- 
sion to  consider  its  modes  of  being  as  being  capable  of  existing 
or  of  not  existing.  This  notion  of  the  possible  will  not,  however, 
carry  with  it  the  knowledge  of  the  causes  which  may  produce  a 
given  effect ;  on  the  contrary,  it  will  presuppose  ignorance  thereof, 
and  will  be  founded  simply  upon  an  habitual  conclusion.  When 
the  statue  thinks,  for  instance,  that  it  can  cease  to  be  scent  of 
rose  and  be  once  more  scent  of  violet,  it  is  not  aware  that  a  being 
external  to  itself  alone  causes  its  sensations.  To  cause  the  statue 
to  come  to  a  mistaken  conclusion  all  we  need  do  is  to  make  it 
smell  continually  the  same  odour.    True,  its  imagination  may 
at  times  make  up  for  it,  but  only  when  desire  is  violent,  and  even 
then  it  does  not  always  succeed. 

10.  The  statue  might,  possibly,  acting  upon  its  habitual  con- 
clusions, attain  to  some  notion  of  the  impossible.   Accustomed 
to  lose  a  certain  mode  of  being  the  moment  it  enters  a  different 
one,  it  is  impossible,  according  to  its  way  of  thinking,  that  it 
should  be  in  two  states  of  being  at  once.  The  only  case  in  which 
the  statue  would  believe  otherwise  is  when  its  imagination  would 
act  with  force  sufficient  to  recall  to  it  two  sensations  with  the 
same  intensity  as  if  it  were  really  experiencing  them.   But  that 
can  scarcely  happen.   It  is  natural  that  the  statue's  imagination 
should  conform  to  the  habits  it  has  acquired.   So,  having  expe- 
rienced its  states  of  being  one  after  the  other  only,  it  is  in  that 
order  only  that  it  will  imagine  them.  And  besides  it  is  probable 
that  its  memory  will  not  be  vigorous  enough  to  make  appear  pre- 
sent to  it  two  sensations  it  has  had  and  which  it  no  longer  has. 

But,  what  seems  to  me  more  probable,  is  that  the  statue's 
habit  of  concluding  that  what  has  happened  to  it  once  may 
happen  to  it  again,  contains  the  notion  of  the  possible.  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  suppose  that  it  has  any  occasion  to  form  any  judgments 
in  which  we  could  find  the  notion  we  entertain  of  the  impossible. 
To  bring  this  about  the  statue  would  have  to  be  preoccupied 
with  what  it  has  not  yet  experienced,  while  it  is  far  more  natural 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  369 

that  it  should  be  entirely  taken  up  with  what  it  is  actually  ex- 
periencing. 

11.  From  the  fact  that  it  distinguishes  between  odours  comes 
the  notion  of  series,  for  the  statue  cannot  feel  that  it  is  ceasing 
to  be  what  it  was  without  conceiving  in  the  change  a  duration  of 
two  instants. 

And  as  it  cannot  distinctly  grasp  more  than  three  odours,  so 
it  cannot  distinguish  more  than  three  instants  in  any  lapse  of 
time.  Beyond  that  point  it  can  see  naught  but  an  indefinite  series. 

If  it  be  supposed  that  memory  can  recall  to  it,  distinctly,  as 
many  as  four,  five  or  six  modes  of  being,  it  will  consequently 
distinguish  four,  five  or  six  instants  in  duration.  Every  one  may 
frame  such  hypotheses  as  he  pleases  on  this  point,  and  substi- 
tute them  for  those  to  which  I  have  believed  it  best  to  give  the 
preference. 

12.  The  transition  from  one  odour  to  another  imparts  to  our 
statue  the  notion  of  the  past  only.    To  have  the  notion  of  the 
future  requires,  on  its  part,  that  it  should  have  experienced  re- 
peatedly the  same  succession  of  sensations,  and  that  it  should 
have  acquired  the  habit  of  concluding  that  a  certain  modifica- 
tion is  bound  to  follow  upon  a  given  one. 

Let  us  take,  by  way  of  example,  the  series  of  jonquil,  rose  and 
violet.  So  soon  as  these  odours  are  continually  connected  in  this 
order,  the  moment  one  of  them  acts  upon  its  sense  of  smell 
memory  immediately  recalls  to  it  the  two  others  in  the  order 
they  bear  to  the  one  smelled.  Just  as  when  it  smells  the  scent  of 
the  violet  the  two  others  will  be  remembered  as  having  preceded 
it,  and  the  statue  will  conceive  of  a  past  duration,  so,  when  it 
smells  the  scent  of  the  jonquil,  the  scent  of  the  rose  and  that  of 
the  violet  will  be  recalled  as  certain  to  follow,  and  the  statue  will 
conceive  a  duration  yet  to  come. 

13.  The  scents  of  the  jonquil,  the  rose  and  the  violet  may 
therefore  mark  the  three  instants  which  the  statue  perceives  in 
clear  fashion.  For  the  same  reason,  the  odours  which  have  come 
first  and  those  which  are  in  the  habit  of  coming  next  will  mark 
the  instants  of  time  which  the  statue  perceives  vaguely  in  the 
past  and  in  the  future.   So,  when  it  shall  smell  a  rose,  memory 


370  CONDILLAC 

will  recall  distinctly  the  scent  of  the  jonquil  and  that  of  the  violet, 
and  it  will  represent  to  the  statue  an  indefinite  duration  of  time 
which  preceded  the  instant  when  it  smelled  the  jonquil,  and  a 
definite  duration,  which  must  follow  that  at  which  it  will  smell 
the  violet. 

14.  Perceiving  this  duration  as  indefinite,  the  statue  can  see 
in  it  neither  beginning  nor  end ;  it  cannot,  therefore,  even  suspect 
the  existence  of  the  one  or  the  other.   Thus,  with  regard  to  the 
statue,  that  particular  duration  is  absolute  eternity;  and  the  statue 
feels  as  if  it  had  always  been  and  were  never  to  cease  to  be. 

In  fact,  it  is  not  reflection  upon  the  succession  of  the  ideas  we 
have  which  tells  us  that  we  had  a  beginning  and  that  we  shall 
have  an  end :  it  is  the  attention  we  bestow  upon  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, whom  we  behold  being  born  and  dying.  A  man  who  would 
be  acquainted  with  his  own  existence  only  would  have  no  idea 
of  death. 

15.  The  notion  of  duration,  first  produced  by  the  succession 
of  impressions  upon  the  organ,  is  preserved,  or  reproduced,  by 
the  succession  of  sensations  which  memory  recalls.    So,  even 
when  the  odoriferous  bodies  cease  to  act  upon  the  statue,  it  con- 
tinues to  represent  to  itself  the  present,  the  past  and  the  future. 
The  present,  by  the  state  in  which  it  finds  itself;  the  past,  by  the 
remembrance  of  the  state  in  which  it  has  been;  the  future,  be- 
cause it  concludes  that  having  repeatedly  experienced  the  same 
sensations,  it  may  experience  them  again. 

Therefore  there  are  in  the  statue  two  successions  or  series: 
that  of  the  impressions  made  upon  the  organ,  and  that  of  the 
sensations  retraced  in  the  memory. 

1 6.  Several  impressions  may  follow  each  other  in  the  organ 
while  the  remembrance  of  a  similar  sensation  is  present  in  the 
memory;  and  several  sensations  may  be  successively  retraced  in 
the  memory  while  a  similar  impression  is  acting  upon  the  organ. 
In  the  first  case  the  series  of  impressions  acting  upon  the  sense 
of  smell  give  the  measure  of  the  duration  of  the  remembrance  of 
a  sensation;  in  the  second,  the  succession  of  sensations  which 
present  themselves  to  the  memory  give  the  measure  of  duration 
of  the  impression  made  upon  the  sense  of  smell. 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  371 

For  instance,  if,  when  the  statue  is  smelling  a  rose,  it  recalls 
the  scent  of  the  tuberose,  of  the  jonquil,  of  the  violet,  it  is  by  the 
succession  of  these  remembrances  in  its  memory  that  it  judges 
of  the  duration  of  its  sensation;  and  if,  while  it  recalls  the  odour 
of  the  rose,  I  should  present  to  it  rapidly  a  series  of  odoriferous 
bodies,  it  is  by  the  succession  passing  within  the  organ  that  it 
judges  of  the  duration  of  the  remembrance  of  that  sensation. 
Thus  it  perceives  that  there  is  not  one  of  its  modifications  that 
cannot  last.  Duration  becomes  a  relation  under  which  it  consid- 
ers them  all  in  general,  and  it  thus  acquires  an  abstract  notion 
of  it. 

If,  while  it  is  smelling  a  rose,  it  recalls  successively  the  odours 
of  the  violet,  the  jasmine  or  lavender,  it  will  perceive  as  it  were 
an  odour  of  rose  lasting  throughout  three  instants;  and  if  it  re- 
calls a  series  of  twenty  odours,  it  will  perceive  itself  as  the  odour 
of  rose  since  an  indefinite  point  of  time ;  it  will  not  conclude  that 
it  has  begun  to  be;  it  will  believe  it  has  been  from  all  eternity. 

17.  It  follows  that  it  is  only  a  succession  of  odours  transmitted 
by  the  organ  of  smell  or  renewed  by  memory  which  can  impart 
to  the  statue  any  notion  of  duration.  It  would  never  have  known 
more  than  a  single  instant  if  the  first  odoriferous  body  had 
acted  uniformly  upon  it,  whether  for  an  hour,  a  day,  or  longer; 
or  if  the  action  of  the  body  had  undergone  such  delicate  changes 
that  the  statue  had  failed  to  note  them. 

The  case  will  be  the  same  if,  having  acquired  the  notion  of 
duration,  it  preserves  a  sensation  without  having  recourse  to  its 
memory,  without  recalling  successively  some  of  the  states  of 
being  through  which  it  has  passed.  For  how  could  it,  in  that 
event,  distinguish  between  the  instants  of  time  ?  And  if  it  does 
not  distinguish  between  them,  how  can  it  perceive  duration  ? 

Therefore  the  notion  of  duration  is  not  absolute,  and  when 
we  say  that  time  is  going  fast  or  slow,  we  mean  simply  that  the 
revolutions  by  which  we  measure  time  are  being  accomplished 
more  rapidly  or  more  slowly  than  our  ideas  follow  one  another. 
This  may  be  proved  by  a  hypothesis. 

1 8.  If  we  will  imagine  a  world  composed  of  as  many  parts  as 
our  own  but  no  larger  than  a  nut,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  the 


372  CONDILLAC 

stars  would  rise  and  set  on  it  thousands  of  times  in  the  course 
of  one  of  our  hours,  and  that,  organized  as  we  are,  we  could  not 
follow  their  motions.  It  would  be  necessary,  therefore,  that  the 
organs  of  the  minds  destined  to  inhabit  that  world  should  be 
proportioned,  to  such  rapid  revolutions. 

So,  while  the  earth  of  that  little  world  turned  on  its  axis,  and 
around  its  sun,  the  inhabitants  would  receive  as  many  ideas 
as  we  do  while  our  earth  revolves  in  the  same  way.  Therefore 
their  days  and  their  years,  it  is  evident,  would  seem  as  long  to 
them  as  ours  do  to  us. 

But  supposing  another  world,  as  much  larger  than  ours,  as 
ours  would  be  than  the  one  I  have  just  supposed,  the  inhabitants 
of  that  larger  world  would  need  to  be  endowed  with  organs  too 
slow  in  their  action  to  note  the  revolutions  of  our  stars.  They 
would  bear  the  same  relation  to  our  world  which  we  would 
bear  to  the  world  no  larger  than  a  nut.  They  would  be  unable 
to  perceive  any  succession  of  movement. 

Finally,  let  us  inquire  of  the  inhabitants  of  these  worlds  what 
is  the  age  of  each :  the  inhabitants  of  the  smaller  would  count  by 
millions  of  centuries;  the  inhabitants  of  the  larger,  scarcely  open- 
ing their  eyes,  would  answer  that  they  had  just  been  created. 

Therefore  the  notion  of  duration  is  wholly  relative;  each  one 
judges  of  it  by  the  succession  of  his  ideas,  and  it  is  probable  that 
there  are  not  two  men  who,  in  a  given  space  of  time,  count  the 
same  number  of  instants,  for  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  there  are 
not  two  whose  memory  always  retraces  ideas  with  the  same 
rapidity. 

Consequently  a  sensation  which  would  last  uniformly  for  a 
year,  or  for  a  thousand  years,  for  the  matter  of  that,  will  appear 
but  an  instant  to  our  statue;  just  as  an  idea  lasts  but  for  an 
instant  for  us  while  the  inhabitants  of  the  nut-large  world  are 
counting  up  centuries.  It  is  therefore  a  mistake  to  suppose  that 
all  men  count  the  same  number  of  instants.  The  presence  of  an 
idea,  which  does  not  change,  being  but  an  instant  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  it  follows  as  a  consequence  that  a  single  instant  in 
my  notion  of  duration  may  co-exist  with  several  instants  in  the 
notion  of  duration  of  another  man. 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  373 

CHAPTER  V.     THE    SLEEP    AND    DREAMS    OF    A 
MAN  LIMITED  TO  THE  SENSE  OF  SMELL 

1.  Our  statue  may  be  reduced  to  the  condition  of  being  merely 
the  remembrance  of  an  odour;  then  the  sense  of  its  existence 
appears  to  be  lost  to  it.   It  feels  less  that  it  is  existing  than  that 
it  has  existed,  and  in  proportion  as  memory  recalls  ideas  to  it 
with  less  intensity,  this  remnant  of  feeling  becomes  weaker  yet. 
Like  a  light  which  goes  out  gradually,  the  feeling  ceases  wholly 
when  the  faculty  of  memory  becomes  entirely  inactive. 

2.  Now,  our  own  experience  compels  us  to  believe  that  exer- 
cise must  in  the  end  fatigue  the  memory  and  the  imagination  of 
the  statue.   Let  us  therefore  consider  these  faculties  at  rest,  and 
refrain  from  exciting  them  by  any  sensation :  the  resultant  con- 
dition will  be  that  of  sleep. 

3.  If  the  repose  of  these  faculties  be  such  that  they  are  com- 
pletely inactive,  there  is  nothing  to  note,  save  that  the  sleep  is 
the  soundest  possible.    If,  on  the  contrary,  these  faculties  con- 
tinue to  act,  they  will  act  upon  a  part  only  of  the  notions  acquired. 
A  number  of  links  in  the  chain  will  be  cut  out,  and  the  succession 
of  ideas,  during  sleep,  will  necessarily  differ  from  the  order  in 
a  waking  state.   Pleasure  will  no  longer  be  the  sole  cause  deter- 
mining the  action  of  the  imagination.  This  faculty  will  awaken 
those  ideas  only  over  which  it  still  exercises  a  measure  of  power, 
and  it  will  tend  just  as  frequently  to  make  the  statue  unhappy 
as  to  make  it  happy. 

4.  This  is  the  dreaming  state :  it  differs  from  the  waking  state 
only  in  that  the  ideas  do  not  preserve  the  same  order  and  that 
pleasure  is  not  always  the  law  which  governs  the  imagination. 
Every  dream,  therefore,  involves  the  interception  of  a  number 
of  ideas,, on  which  the  faculties  of  the  soul  are  unable  to  act. 

5.  Since  the  statue  is  unacquainted  with  any  difference  be- 
tween imagining  intensely  and  having  sensations,  it  cannot  dis- 
tinguish any  difference  between  dreaming  and  waking.   What- 
ever, therefore,  it  experiences  while  asleep  is  as  real,  so  far  as  it 
is  concerned,  as  what  it  has  experienced  before  falling  asleep. 


374  CONDILLAC 


CHAPTER  VI.    OF  THE  EGO,  OR  PERSONALITY  OF 
A  MAN  LIMITED   TO   THE  SENSE  OF  SMELL 

1.  Our  statue  being  capable  of  remembering,  it  is  no  sooner 
one  odour  than  it  remembers  that  it  has  been  another.  That  is  its 
personality,  for  if  it  could  say  7,  it  would  say  it  at  every  instant 
of  its  own  duration,  and  each  time  its  I  would  comprise  all  the 
moments  it  remembered. 

2.  True,  it  would  not  say  -it  at  the  first  odour.  What  is  meant 
by  that  term  seems  to  me  to  suit  only  a  being  which  notes  in 
the  present  moment,  that  it  is  no  longer  what  it  has  been.   So 
long  as  it  does  not  change,  it  exists  without  thought  of  itself;  but 
as  soon  as  it  changes,  it  concludes  that  it  is  the  selfsame  which 
was  formerly  in  such  another  state,  and  it  says  /. 

This  observation  confirms  the  fact  that  in  the  first  instant  of 
its  existence  the  statue  cannot  form  desires,  for  before  being 
able  to  say  /  wish,  one  must  have  said  7. 

3.  The  odours  which  the  statue  does  not  remember  do  not 
therefore  enter  into  the  notion  it  has  of  its  own  person.  Being  as 
foreign  to  its  Ego  as  are  colours  and  sounds,  of  which  it  has  no 
knowledge,  they  are,  in  respect  of  the  statue,  as  if  the  statue  had 
never  smelled  them.   Its  Ego  is  but  the  sum  of  the  sensations  it 
experiences  and  of  those  which  memory  recalls  to  it.  In  a  word, 
it  is  at  once  the  consciousness  of  what  it  is  and  the  remembrance 
of  what  it  has  been. 

CHAPTER  VII.    CONCLUSIONS    FROM  THE  PRE- 
CEDING CHAPTERS 

i.  Having  proved  that  the  statue  is  capable  of  being  attentive, 
of  remembering,  of  comparing,  of  judging,  of  discerning,  of 
imagining;  that  it  possesses  abstract  notions,  notions  of  number 
and  duration;  that  it  is  acquainted  with  general  and  particular 
truths;  that  desires  are  formed  by  it,  that  it  has  the  power  of 
passions,  loves,  hates,  wills;  and  finally  that  it  contracts  habits, 
we  must  conclude  that  the  mind  is  endowed  with  as  many  facul- 


TREATISE  ON  SENSATIONS  375 

ties  when  it  has  but  a  single  organ  as  when  it  has  five.  We  shall 
see  that  the  faculties  which  appear  to  be  peculiar  to  us  are  no- 
thing else  than  the  same  faculties  which,  applied  to  a  greater 
number  of  objects,  develop  more  fully. 

2.  If  we  consider  that  to  remember,  compare,  judge,  discern, 
imagine,  be  astonished,  have  abstract  notions,  have  notions  of 
duration  and  number,  know  general  and  particular  truths,  are 
but  different  modes  of  attention;  that  to  have  passions,  to  love, 
to  hate,  to  hope,  to  fear  and  to  will  are  but  different  modes  of 
desire,  and  that,  finally,  attention  and  desire  are  in  their  essence 
but  sensation,  we  shall  conclude  that  sensation  calls  out  all  the 
faculties  of  the  soul. 

3.  Lastly,  if  we  consider  that  there  are  no  absolutely  indiffer- 
ent sensations,  we  shall  further  conclude  that  the  different  degrees 
of  pleasure  and  of  pain  constitute  the  law  according  to  which 
the  germ  of  all  that  we  are  has  developed  in  order  to  produce  all 
our  faculties. 

This  principle  may  be  called  want,  astonishment,  or  otherwise, 
but  it  remains  ever  the  same,  for  we  are  always  moved  by  plea- 
sure or  by  pain  in  whatever  we  are  led  to  do  by  need  or  astonish- 
ment. 

The  fact  is  that  our  earliest  notions  are  pain  or  pleasure  only. 
Many  others  soon  follow  these,  and  give  rise  to  comparisons, 
whence  spring  our  earliest  needs  and  our  earliest  desires.  Our 
researches,  undertaken  for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  these  needs 
and  desires,  cause  us  to  acquire  additional  notions  which  in  their 
turn  produce  new  desires.  The  surprise  which  makes  us  feel  in- 
tensely any  extraordinary  thing  happening  to  us,  increases  from 
time  to  time  the  activity  of  our  faculties,  and  there  is  formed  a 
chain  the  links  of  which  are  alternately  notions  and  desires,  and 
it  is  sufficient  to  follow  up  this  chain  to  discover  the  progress  of 
the  enlightening  of  man. 

4.  Nearly  all  that  I  have  said  about  the  faculties  of  the  soul, 
while  treating  of  the  sense  of  smell,  I  might  have  said  if  I  had 
taken  any  other  sense ;  it  is  easy  to  apply  all  to  each  of  the  senses. 
I  have  now  only  to  examine  what  is  peculiar  to  each  of  them. 


IMMANUEL  KANT 

(1724-1804) 

THE   CRITIQUE   OF   PURE   REASON 

Selections  translated  from  the  German  *  by 
JOHN  WATSON 

INTRODUCTION 

i.    Distinction  of  Pure  and  Empirical  Knowledge. 

THERE  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  that  all  our  knowledge  begins 
with_experience.  By  what  means  should  the  faculty  of  know- 
ledge be  aroused  to  activity  but  by  objects,  which,  acting  upon 
our  senses,  partly  of  themselves  produce  ideas  in  us,  and  partly 
set  our  understanding  at  work  to  compare  these  ideas  with  one 
another,  and,  by  combining  or  separating  them,  to  convert  the 
raw  material  of  our  sensible  impressions  into  that  knowledge  of 
objects  which  is  called  experience  ?  In  the  order  of  time,  there- 
fore, we  have  no  knowledge  prior  to  experience,  and  with  expe- 
rience all  our  knowledge  begins. 

But,  although  all  our  knowledge  begins  with  experience,  it 
by  no  means  follows  that  it  all  originates  from  experience.  For 
it  may  well  be  that  experience  is  itself  made  up  of  two  elements, 
one  received  through  impressions  of  sense,  and  the  other  sup- 
plied from  itself  by  our  faculty  of  knowledge  on  occasion  of  those 
impressions.  If  that  be  so,  it  may  take  long  practice  before  our 
attention  is  drawn  to  the  element  added  by  the  mind,  and  we 
learn  to  distinguish  and  separate  it  from  the  material  to  which 
it  is  applied. 

It  is,  therefore,  a  question  which  cannot  be  lightly  put  aside, 
but  can  be  answered  only  after  careful  investigation,  whether 
there  is  any  knowledge  that  is  independent  of  experience,  and 

*  From  the  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,  Riga,  1781  ;  2.  umgearb.  Aufl.,  1787. 
Reprinted  from  The  Philosophy  oj  Kant,  as  Contained  in  Extracts  from  his  own 
Writings,  selected  and  translated  by  John  Watson,  LL.D.  New  ed.,  Glasgow, 
1901. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  377 

even  of  all  impressions  of  sense.  Such  knowledge  is  said  to  be 
a  priori,  to  distinguish  it  from  empirical  knowledge,  which  has 
its  sources  a  posteriori,  or  in  experience. 

The  term  a  priori  must,  however,  be  defined  more  precisely, 
in  order  that  the  full  meaning  of  our  question  may  be  understood. 
We  say  of  a  man  who  undermines  the  foundations  of  his  house, 
that  he  might  have  known  a  priori  that  it  would  fall;  by  which 
we  mean,  that  he  might  have  known  it  would  fall,  without  wait- 
ing for  the  event  to  take  place  in  his  experience.  But  he  could 
not  know  it  completely  a  priori;  for  it  is  only  from  experience 
that  he  could  learn  that  bodies  are  heavy,  and  must  fall  by  their 
own  weight  when  there  is  nothing  to  support  them. 

By  a  priori  knowledge  we  shall,  therefore,  in  what  follows 
understand,  not  such  knowledge  as  is  independent  of  this  or  that 
experience,  but  such  as  is  absolutely  independent  of  all  experience. 
Opposed  to  it  is  empirical  knowledge,  or  that  which  is  possible 
only  a  posteriori,  that  is,  by  experience.  A  priori  knowledge  is 
pure,  when  it  is  unmixed  with  anything  empirical.  The  propo- 
sition, for  instance,  that  each  change  has  its  own  cause  is  a  priori, 
but  it  is  not  pure,  because  change  is  an  idea  that  can  be  derived 
only  from  experience. 

4.    THe_  Distinction  Between  Analytic  and  Synthetic  Judgments. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  the  predicate  of  an  affirmative 
judgment  may  be  related  to  the  subject.  Either  the  predicate 
B  is  already  tacitly  contained  in  the  subject  A,  or  B  lies  entirely 
outside  of  A,  although  it  is  in  some  way  connected  with  it.  In 
the  one  case  I  call  the  judgment  analytic,  in  the  other  case  syn- 
thetic. Analytic  judgments  are  those  in  which  the  predicate  is 
related  to  the  subject  in  the  way  of  identity,  while  in  synthetic 
judgments  the  predicate  is  not  thought  as  identical  with  the 
subject.  The  former  class  might  also  be  called  explicative,  be- 
cause the  predicate  adds  nothing  to  the  subject,  but  merely 
breaks  it  up  into  its  logical  elements,  and  brings  to  clear  con- 
sciousness what  was  already  obscurely  thought  in  it.  The  latter 
class  we  may  call  ampliative,  as  adding  in  the  predicate  some- 
thing that  was  in  no  sense  thought  in  the  subject,  and  that  no 


378  KANT 

amount  of  analysis  could  possibly  extract  from  it.  "Body  is 
extended,"  for  instance,  is  an  analytic  judgment.  For,  to  be 
conscious  that  extension  is  involved  in  the  conception  signified 
by  the  term  body,  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  outside  that  concep- 
tion, but  merely  to  analyze  it  into  the  various  logical  elements 
that  are  always  thought  in  it.  But  in  the  proposition  "Body  has 
weight,"  the  predicate  is  not  implied  in  the  very  conception  of 
body,  but  is  a  perfectly  new  idea.  The  addition  of  such  a  predi- 
cate, therefore,  yields  a  synthetic  judgment. 

In  a  priori  synthetic  judgments,  I  can  get  no  aid  whatever 
from  experience.  But,  if  it  is  here  vain  to  look  to  experience  for 
aid,  on  what  other  support  am  I  to  rely,  when  I  seek  to  go 
beyond  a  certain  conception  A,  and  to  connect  B  synthetically 
with  it?  Take  the  proposition,  that  every  event  must  have  its 
cause.  No  doubt  I  cannot  have  the  conception  of  an  event  with- 
out thinking  of  something  as  having  a  moment  of  time  before  it, 
and  from  this  certain  analytic  judgments  may  be  derived.  But 
the  conception  of  a  cause  lies  entirely  outside  the  conception  of 
an  event,  and  introduces  an  idea  not  contained  in  it..  Bxjwhat 
right,  then,  do  I  pass  from  the^conceptign  of  an  event  to  the 
totally  different  conception  of  a  cause?  How  do  I  know  that 
there  is  a  necessary  connection  between  the  two  conceptions, 
when  I  can  perfectly  well  think  the  one  without  the  other  ?  What 
is  here  the  unknown  xy  which  gives  support  to  the  understanding, 
when  it  seems  to  have  discovered  an  entirely  new  predicate  B 
to  belong  necessarily  to  the  subject  A  ?  Experience  it  cannot  be, 
because  the  principle  has  a  degree  of  universality  that  experience 
can  never  supply,  as  it  is  supposed  to  connect  the  new  concep- 
tion with  the  old  in  the  way  of  necessity,  and  must  do  so  entirely 
a  priori,  and  on  the  basis  of  mere  conceptions.  And  yet  our 
speculative  a  priori  knowledge  must  rest  upon  such  synthetic 
or  ampliative  propositions. 

6.  The  Problem  of  Pure  Reason. 

It  is  of  very  great  advantage,  to  others  as  well  as  to  oneself, 
to  be  able  to  bring  together  various  topics  of  investigation  in  a 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  379 

single  problem.  Now,  the  true  problem  of  pure  reason  may  be 
put  in  this  way — How  are  a  priori  synthetic  judgments  pos- 
sible ? 

Should  this  question  be  answered  in  a  satisfactory  way,  we 
shall  at  the  same  time  learn  what  part  reason  plays  in  the  foun- 
dation and  completion  of  those  sciences  which  contain  a  theo- 
retical a  priori  knowledge  of  objects.  Thus  we  shall  be  able 
to  answer  the  questions  —  How  is  pure  mathematics  possible  ? 
How  is  pure  physics  possible  ?  As  these  sciences  actually  exist, 
we  may  fairly  ask  how  they  are  possible;  for  that  they  must  be 
possible  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  they  exist.  But  as  no  real 
progress  has  as  yet  been  made  in  the  construction  of  a  system 
that  realizes  the  essential  aim  of  metaphysic^  it  cannot  be  said 
that  metaphysic  exists,  and  there  is,  therefore,  reason  to  doubt 
whether  it  is  possible  at  all. 

Yet  in  one  sense  metaphysic  may  certainly  be  said  to  exist, 
namely,  in  the  sense  that  there  is  in  man  a  natural  disposition 
to  seek  for  this  kind  of  knowledge.  But  as  all  attempts  to  answer 
the  questions  which  human  reason  is  naturally  impelled  to  ask, 
as,  for  instance,  whether  the  world  had  a  beginning,  or  has  existed 
from  all  eternity,  have  always  and  unavoidably  ended  in  self- 
contradiction;  we  cannot  be  satisfied  with  asserting  the  mere 
natural  disposition  to  metaphysical  speculation,  or,  in  other 
words,  with  the  bare  ability  of  pure  reason  to  construct  some 
sort  of  metaphysic.  It  must  be  possible  for  reason  to  attain  to 
certainty  one  way  or  the  other:  we  must  be  able  to  ascertain 
whether  reason  can  know  the  objects  it  seeks,  or  whether  it  can- 
not know  them ;  we  must  find  a  conclusive  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion whether  pure  reason  is  capable  or  incapable  of  determining 
the  nature  of  those  objects,  and  whether,  therefore,  its  domain 
may  with  confidence  be  enlarged  beyond  the  limits  of  experience, 
or  must  be  restricted  within  them.  Accordingly,  the  third  and 
last  question,  which  flows  from  the  general  problem  of  pure 
reason,  may  be  correctly  put  in  this  way:  How  is  a  science  of 
metaphysic  possible  ?  Thus  a  criticism  of  reason  in  the  end 
necessarily  leads  to  science,  whereas  the  dogmatic  employment 
of  reason  without  previous  criticism  can  lead  only  to  groundless 


380  KANT 

assertions,  to  which  other  assertions  equally  specious  may  al- 
ways be  opposed,  the  inevitable  result  being  scepticism. 

7.  Idea  and  Division  of  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason. 

From  all  that  has  been  said  we  get  the  idea  of  a  unique  science, 
which  may  be  called  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason.  It  is  not  a 
doctrine,  but  a  criticism  of  pure  reason,  and  its  speculative  value 
is  entirely  negative,  because  it  does  not  enlarge  our  knowledge, 
but  only  casts  light  upon  the  nature  of  our  reason  and  enables 
us  to  keep  it  free  from  error.  By  transcendental  knowledge  I 
mean  all  knowledge  that  is  occupied,  not  with  objects,  but  with 
the  way  in  which  a  knowledge  of  objects  may  be  gained,  so  far 
as  that  is  possible  a  priori.  What  we  propose  is  not  a  doctrine 
of  pure  reason,  but  a  transcendental  criticism,  the  purpose  of 
which  is  not  to  extend  knowledge,  but  to  rectify  it,  and  to  supply 
a  touchstone  of  the  value  of  all  a  priori  knowledge. 

This  transcendental  criticism  will  afford  a  complete  archi- 
tectonic plan  of  transcendental  philosophy,  as  exhibited  in  its 
principles,  and  will  therefore  give  a  perfect  guarantee  of  the 
completeness  and  stability  of  the  edifice  in  all  its  parts. 

The  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  therefore  contains  all  that  is 
essential  to  the  idea  of  transcendental  philosophy,  and  if  we  dis- 
tinguish it  from  that  philosophy,  the  reason  is  that  it  does  not 
carry  its  analysis  beyond  what  is  required  in  a  complete  estimate 
of  a  priori  synthetic  knowledge. 

The  main  thing  to  be  kept  in  view  in  the  division  of  such  a 
science  is  that  no  ideas  be  allowed  to  enter  that  are  in  any  way 
of  empirical  origin,  or,  in  other  words,  that  it  consist  only  of 
perfectly  pure  a  priori  knowledge.  Hence,  although  the  prin- 
ciples and  fundamental  conceptions  of  morality  are  a  priori, 
they  form  no  part  of  a  transcendental  philosophy,  because  they 
are  necessarily  relative  to  the  conceptions  of  pleasure  and  pain, 
desire,  and  inclination,  etc.,  which  in  their  origin  are  empirical. 

In  a  systematic  division  of  this  science  we  must  have,  firstly, 
a  doctrine  of  the  elements,  secondly,  a  doctrine  of  the  method  of 
pure  reason.  As  to  trie  subdivisions,  it  seems  enough  to  say  at 
present  that  there  are  two  stems  of  human  knowledge  —  Sensi- 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  381 

bility  and  Understanding,  which  may  perhaps  spring  from  a 
common  root,  unknown  to  us,  and  that  by  the  one  objects  are 
given,  by  the  other  they  are  thought.  Now,  if  Sensibility  is  found 
to  contain  an  a  priori  element,  without  which  objects  could  not 
be  given  to  us,  an  investigation  into  the  nature  of  that  element 
will  be  one  of  the  tasks  of  transcendental  philosophy.  The  doc- 
trine of  this  transcendental  element  of  sensible  perception  will 
form  the  first  part  of  the  science  of  elements,  because  we  must 
consider  the  conditions  under  which  objects  of  human  know- 
ledge are  given,  before  we  go  on  to  inquire  into  the  conditions 
under  which  they  are  thought. 


TRANSCENDENTAL  AESTHETIC 

I 

Sensation  is  the  actual  affection  of  our  sensibility,  or  capacity 
of  receiving  impressions,  by  an  object.    The  perception  which 
refers  itself  to  an  object  through  sensation,  is  empirical  percep-  -  - 
tion.   The  undetermined  object  of  such  a  perception  is  a  phe- 
nomenon (Erscheinung). 

That  element  in  the  phenomenon  which  corresponds  to  sen- 
sation I  call  the  matter,  while  that  element  which  makes  it  pos- 
sible that  the  various  determinations  of  the  phenomenon  should  *'* 
be  arranged  in  certain  ways  relatively  to  one  another  is  its  form. 
Now,  that  without  which  sensations  can  have  no  order  or  'form, 
cannot  itself  be  sensation.  The  matter  of  a  phenomenon  is  given 
to  us  entirely  a  posteriori,  but  its  form  must  lie  a  priori  in  the 
mind,  and  hence  it  must  be  capable  of  being  considered  by  itself 
apart  from  sensation. 

This  pure  form  of  sensibility  is  also  called  pure  perception. 
Thus,  if  from  the  consciousness  of  a  body,  I  separate  all  that 
the  understanding  has  thought  into  it,  as  substance,  force,  divisi- 
bility, etc.,  and  all  that  is  due  to  sensation,  as  impenetrability, 
hardness,  colour,  etc. ;  what  is  left  over  are  extension  and  figure. 
These,  therefore,  belong  to  pure  perception,  which  exists  in  the 
mind  a  priori,  as  a  mere  form  of  sensibility,  even  when  no  sen- 
sation or  object  of  sense  is  actually  present. 


382  KANT 

The  science  of  all  the  a  priori  principles  of  sensibility  I  call 
Transcendental  Msihetic,  in  contradistinction  from  the  science 
of  the  principles  of  pure  thought,  which  I  call  Transcendental 
Logic. 

In  Transcendental  ^Esthetic  we  shall  first  of  all  isolate  sensi- 
bility, abstracting  from  all  that  the  understanding  contributes 
through  its  conceptions,  so  that  we  may  have  nothing  before  us 
but  empirical  perception.  In  the  next  place,  we  shall  separate 
from  empirical  perception  all  that  belongs  to  sensation;  when 
there  will  remain  only  pure  perception,  or  the  mere  form  of 
phenomena,  the  sole  element  that  sensibility  can  yield  a  priori. 
If  this  is  done,  it  will  be  found  that  there  are  two  pure  forms  of 
sensible  perception,  which  constitute  principles  of  a  priori  know- 
ledge, namely,  Space  and  Time.  With  these  it  will  now  be  our 
business  to  deal. 

SECTION  I.  SPACE 
2.  Metaphysical  Exposition  oj  Space. 

In  external  sense  we  are  conscious  of  objects  as  outside  of 
ourselves,  and  as  all  without  exception  in  space.  In  space  their 
shape,  size,  and  relative  position  are  marked  out,  or  are  capable 
of  being  marked  out.  Inner  sense,  in  which  we  are  conscious  of 
ourselves,  or  rather  of  our  own  state,  gives  us,  it  is  true,  no  direct 
perception  of  the  soul  itself  as  an  object;  but  it  nevertheless  is 
the  one  single  form  in  which  our  own  state  comes  before  us  as  a 
definite  object  of  perception ;  and  hence  all  inner  determinations 
appear  to  us  as  related  to  one  another  in  time.  We  cannot  be 
conscious  of  time  as  external,  any  more  than  we  can  be  conscious 
of  space  as  something  within  us.  What,  then,  are  space  and 
time  ?  Are  they  in  themselves  real  things  ?  Are  they  only  deter- 
minations, or  perhaps  merely  relations  of  things,  which  yet  would 
belong  to  things  in  themselves  even  if  those  things  were  not 
perceived  by  us?  Or,  finally,  have  space  and  time  no  meaning 
except  as  forms  of  perception,  belonging  to  the  subjective  consti- 
tution of  our  own  mind,  apart  from  which  they  cannot  be  predi- 
cated of  anything  whatever?  To  answer  these  questions  I  shall 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  383 

begin  with  a  metaphysical  exposition  of  space.  An  exposition  I 
call  it,  because  it  gives  a  distinct,  although  not  a  detailed,  state- 
ment of  what  is  implied  in  the  idea  of  space ;  and  the  exposition 
is  metaphysical,  because  it  brings  forward  the  reasons  we  have 
for  regarding  space  as  given  a  priori. 

(1)  Space  is  not  an  empirical  conception,  which  has  been 
derived  from  external  experiences.  For  I  could  not  be  conscious 
that  certain  of  my  sensations  are  relative  to  something  outside 
of  me,  that  is,  to  something  in  a  different  part  of  space  from  that 
in  which  I  myself  am;  nor  could  I  be  conscious  of  them  as 
outside  of  and  beside  one  another,  were  I  not  at  the  same  time 
conscious  that  they  not  only  are  different  in  content,  but  are  in 
different  places.  The  consciousness  of  space  is,  therefore,  neces- 
sarily presupposed  in  external  perception.   No  experience  of  the 
external  relations  of  sensible  things  could  yield  the  idea  of  space, 
because  without  the  consciousness  of  space  there  would  be  no 
external  experience  whatever. 

(2)  Space  is  a  necessary  a  priori  idea,  which  is  presupposed 
in  all  external  perceptions.  By  no  effort  can  we  think  space  to  be 
away,  although  we  can  quite  readily  think  of  space  as  empty  of 
objects.   Space  we  therefore  regard  as  a  condition  of  the  possi- 
bility  gfjphenomena,  and  not  as  a  detennination  dependenTlm 

isTFms  a  priori,  and  is  necessarily  presupposed 
in  external  phenomena. 

(3)  Space  is  not  a  discursive  or  general  conception  of  the  re- 
lation of  things,  but  a  pure  perception.  For  we  can  be  conscious 
only  of  a  single  space.   It  is  true  that  we  speak  as  if  there  were 
many  spaces,  but  we  really  mean  only  parts  of  one  and  the  same 
identical  space.  Nor  can  we  say  that  these  parts  exist  before  the 
one  all-embracing  space,  and  are  put  together  to  form  a  whole; 
but  we  can  think  of  them  only  as  in  it.  Space  is  essentially  single; 
by  the  plurality  of  spaces,  we  merely  mean  that  because  space 
can  be  limited  in  many  ways,  the  general  conception  of  spaces 
presupposes  such  limitations,  as  its  foundation.    From  this  it 
follows,  that  an  a  priori  perception,  and  not  an  empirical  per- 
ception, underlies  all  conceptions  of  pure  space.    Accordingly, 
no  geometrical  proposition,  as,  for  instance,  that  any  two  sides 


384  KANT 

of  a  triangle  are  greater  than  the  third  side,  can  ever  be  derived 
from  the  general  conceptions  of  line  and  triangle,  but  only  from 
perception.  From  the  perception,  however,  it  can  be  derived  a 
priori,  and  with  demonstrative  certainty. 

(4)  Space  is  presented  before  our  consciousness  as  an  infinite 
magnitude.  Now,  in  every  conception  we  certainly  think  of  a 
certain  attribute  as  common  to  an  infinite  number  of  possible 
objects,  which  are  subsumed  under  the  conception;  but,  from 
its  very  nature,  no  conception  can  possibly  be  supposed  to  con- 
tain an  infinite  number  of  determinations  within  it.  But  it  is 
just  in  this  way  that  space  is  thought  of,  all  its  parts  being  con- 
ceived to  co-exist  ad  infinitum.  Hence  the  original  consciousness 
of  space  is  an  a  priori  perception,  not  a  conception. 

^      3.    Transcendental  Exposition  o)  Space. 

A  transcendental  exposition  seeks  to  show  how,  from  a  certain 
principle,  the  possibility  of  other  a  priori  synthetic  knowledge 
may  be  explained.  To  be  successful,  it  must  prove  (i)  that  there 
really  are  synthetic  propositions  which  can  be  derived  from  the 
principle  in  question,  (2)  that  they  can  be  so  derived  only  if  a 
certain  explanation  of  that  principle  is  adopted. 

Now,  geometry  is  a  science  that  determines  the  properties  of 
space  synthetically,  and  yet  a  priori.  What,  then,  must  be  the 
nature  of  space,  in  order  that  such  knowledge  of  it  may  be  pos- 
sible ?  Our  original  consciousness  of  it  must  be  perception,  for 
no  new  truth,  such  as  we  have  in  the  propositions  of  geometry, 
can  be  obtained  from  the  mere  analysis  of  a  given  conception. 
And  this  perception  must  be  a  priori,  or,  in  other  words,  must 
be  found  in  us  before  we  actually  observe  an  object,  and  hence 
it  must  be  pure,  not  empirical  perception.  For  all  geometrical 
propositions,  as,  for  instance,  that  space  has  but  three  dimen- 
sions, are  of  demonstrative  certainty,  or  present  themselves  in 
consciousness  as  necessary;  and  such  propositions  cannot  be 
empirical,  nor  can  they  be  derived  from  judgments  of  experience. 

How,  then,  can  there  be  in  the  mind  an  external  perception, 
which  is  antecedent  to  objects  themselves,  and  in  which  the 
conception  of  those  objects  may  be  determined  a  priori?  Mani- 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  385 

festly,  only  if  that  perception  has  its  seat  in  the  subject,  that  is, 
if  it  belongs  to  the  formal  constitution  of  the  subject,  in  virtue 
of  which  it  is  so  affected  by  objects  as  to  have  a  direct  conscious- 
ness or  perception  of  them;  therefore,  only  if  perception  is  the 
universal  form  of  outer  sense. 


Inferences. 

(a)  Space  is  in  no  sense  a  property  of  things  in  themselves, 
nor  is  it  a  relation  of  things  in  themselves  to  one  another.   It  is 
not  a  determination  that  still  belongs  to  objects  even  wlien  ab- 
straction has  been  made  from  all  the  subjective  conditions  of 
perception.   For  we  never  could  perceive  a  priori  any  determi- 
nation of  things,  whether  belonging  to  them  individually  or  in 
relation  to  one  another,  antecedently  to  our  perception  of  those 
things  themselves. 

(b)  Space  is  nothing  but  the  form  of  all  the  phenomena  of 

outer  sense.    It  is  the  ftfrfcfrrtTVP  condition  without  which  no 
'HP  .  • 

external  perception  is  possible  for  us.  The  receptivity  of  the 
subject,  or  its  capability  of  being  affected  by  objects,  necessarily 
exists  before  there  is  any  perception  of  objects.  Hence  it  is  easy 
to  understand,  how  the  form  of  all  phenomena  may  exist  in  the 
mind  a  priori,  antecedently  to  actual  observation,  and  how,  as 
a  pure  perception  in  which  all  objects  must  be  determined,  it 
may  contain  the  principles  that  determine  beforehand  the  re- 
lations of  objects  when  they  are  met  with  in  experience. 

.  .  .  Our  exposition,  therefore,  establishes  the  reality,  or  ob- 
jective truth  of  space,  as  a  determination  of  every  object  that 
can  possibly  come  before  us  as  external ;  but,  at  the  same  -time, 
it  proves  the  ideality  of  space,  when  space  is  considered  by  rea- 
son relatively  to  things  in  themselves,  that  is,  without  regard 
to  the  constitution  of  our  sensibility.  We,  therefore,  affirm  the 
empirical  reality  of  space,  as  regards  all  possible  external  expe- 
rience; but  we  also  maintain  its  transcendental  ideality,  or,  in 
other  words,  we  hold  that  space  is  nothing  at  all,  if  its  limitation 
to  possible  experience  is  ignored,  and  it  is  treated  as  a  necessary 
condition  of  things  in  themselves. 


386  KANT 

SECTION  II.  TIME 
4.    Metaphysical  Exposition  of  Time. 

(1)  Time  is  not  an  empirical  conception,  which  has  been  de- 
rived from  any  experience.  For  we  should  not  observe  things  to 
co-exist  or  to  follow  one  another,  did  we  not  possess  the  idea 
of  time  a  priori.    It  is,  therefore,  only  under  the  presupposition 
of  time,  that  we  can  be  conscious  of  certain  things  as  existing 
at  the  same  time  (simultaneously),  or  at  different  times  (suc- 
cessively). 

(2)  Time  is  a  necessary  idea,  which  is  presupposed  in  all 
perceptions.   We  cannot  be  conscious  of  phenomena  if  time  is 
taken  away,  although  we  can  quite  readily  suppose  phenomena 
to  be  absent  from  time.   Time  is,  therefore,  given  a  priori.   No 
phenomenon  can  exist  at  all  that  is  not  in  time.   While,  there- 
fore, phenomena  may  be  supposed  to  vanish  completely  out  of 
time,  time  itself,  as  the  universal  condition  of  their  possibility, 
cannot  be  supposed  away. 

(3)  Time  is  not  a  discursive,  or  general  conception,  but  a 
pure  form  of  sensible  perception.  ^Different  times  are  but  parts 
of  the  very  same  time.  Now,  the  consciousness  of  that  which  is 
presented  as   one  single  object,  is  perception.    Moreover,  the 
proposition,  that  no  two  moments  of  time  can  co-exist,  cannot 
be  derived  from  a  general  conception.   The  proposition  is  syn- 
thetic, and  cannot  originate  in  mere  conceptions.    It  therefore 
rests  upon  the  direct  perception  and  idea  of  time. 

(4)  The  infinity  of  time  simply  means,  that  every  definite 
quantity  of  time  is  possible  only  as  a  limitation  of  one  single 
time.    There  must,  therefore,  be  originally  a  consciousness  of 
time  as  unlimited.   Now,  if  an  object  presents  itself  as  a  whole, 
so  that  its  parts  and  every  quantity  of  it  can  be  represented  only 
by  limiting  that  whole,  such  an  object  cannot  be  given  in  con- 
ception, for  conceptions  contain  only  partial  determinations  of  a 
thing.   A  direct  perception  must  therefore  be  the  foundation  of 
the  idea  of  time. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  387 

5.    Transcendental  Exposition  of  Time. 

Apodictic  principles  which  determine  relations  in  time,  or 
axioms  of  time  in  general,  are  possible  only  because  time  is  the 
necessary  a  priori  condition  of  all  phenomena.  Time  has  but 
one  dimension;  different  times  do  not  co-exist  but  follow  one 
another,  just  as  different  spaces  do  not  follow  one  another  but 
co-exist.  Such  propositions  cannot  be  derived  from  experience, 
which  never  yields  strict  universality  or  demonstrative  certainty. 
If  they  were  based  upon  experience,  we  could  say  only,  that  it 
has  ordinarily  been  observed  to  be  so,  not  that  it  must  be  so. 
Principles  like  these  have  the  force  of  rules,  that  lay  down  the 
conditions  without  which  no  experience  whatever  is  possible: 
they  are  not  learned  from  experience,  but  anticipate  whatj^xpe- 
rience  mustjpe. 

Let  me  add  here  that  change,  including  motion  or  change  of 
place,  is  conceivable  only  in  and  through  the  idea  of  time.  Were 
time  not  an  inner  a  priori  perception,  we  could  not  form  the  least 
idea  how  there  should  be  any  such  thing  as  change.  Take  away 
time,  and  change  combines  in  itself  absolutely  contradictory 
predicates.  Motion,  or  change  of  place,  for  instance,  must  then 
be  thought  of  as  at  once  the  existence  and  the  non-existence  of 
one  and  the  same  thing  in  the  same  place.  The  contradiction 
disappears,  only  when  it  is  seen  that  the  thing  has  those  opposite 
determinations  one  after  the  other.  Our  conception  of  time  as 
an  a  priori  form  of  perception,  therefore  explains  the  possibility 
of  the  whole  body  of  a  priori  synthetic  propositions  in  regard  to 
motion  that  are  contained  in  the  pure  part  of  physics,  and  hence 
it  is  not  a  little  fruitful  in  results. 

6.    Inferences. 

(a)  Time  is  not  an  independent  substance  nor  an  objective 
determination  of  things,  and  hence  it  does  not  survive  when  ab- 
straction has  been  made  from  all  the  subjective  conditions  of 
perception.  Were  it  an  independent  thing,  it  would  be  real  with- 
out being  a  real  object  of  consciousness.  Were  it  a  determina- 
tion or  order  of  things  as  they  are  in  themselves,  it  could  not 


388  KANT 

precede  our  perception  of  those  things  as  its  necessary  condition, 
nor  could  it  be  known  by  means  of  synthetic  judgments.  But 
the  possibility  of  such  judgments  becomes  at  once  intelligible  if 
time  is  nothing  but  the  subjective  condition,  without  which  we 
can  have  no  perception  whatever.  For  in  that  case  we  may  be 
conscious  of  this  form  of  inner  perception  before  we  are  con- 
scious of  objects,  and  therefore  a  priori. 

(b)  Time  is  nothing  but  the  form  of  inner  sense,  that  is,  of 
the  perception  of  ourselves  and  our  own  inner  state.   As  it  has 
no  influence  on  the  shape  or  position  of  an  object,  time  cannot 
be  a  determination  of  outer  phenomena  as  such;  what  it  does 
determine  is  the  relation  of  ideas  in  our  own  inner  state.   And 
just  because  this  inner  perception  has  no  shape  of  its  own,  we 
seek  to  make  up  for  this  want  by  analogies  drawn  from  space. 
Thus,  we  figure  the  series  of  time  as  a  line  that  proceeds  to  in- 
finity, the  parts  of  which  form  a  series ;  and  we  reason  from  the 
properties  of  this  line  to  all  the  properties  of  time,  taking  care  to 
allow  for  the  one  point  of  difference,  that  the  parts  of  the  spatial 
line  all  exist  at  once,  while  the  parts  of  the  temporal  line  all  fol- 
low one  after  the  other.   Even  from  this  fact  alone,  that  all  the 
relations  of  time  may  thus  be  presented  in  an  external  percep- 
tion, it  would  be  evident  that  time  is  itself  a  perception. 

(c)  Time  is  the  formal  a  priori  condition  of  all  phenomena 
without  exception.   Space,  as  the  pure  form  of  all  external  phe- 
nomena, is  the  a  priori  condition  only  of  external  phenomena. 
But  all  objects  of  perception,  external  as  well  as  internal,  are 
determinations  of  the  mind,  and,  from  that  point  of  view,  belong 
to  our  inner  state.   And  as  this  inner  state  comes  under  time, 
which  is  the  formal  condition  of  inner  perception,  time  is  an  a 
priori  condition  of  all  phenomena :  it  is  the  immediate  condition 
of  inner  phenomena,  and  so  the  mediate  condition  of  outer  phe- 
nomena. Just  as  I  can  say,  a  priori,  that  all  external  phenomena 
are  in  space,  and  are  determined  a  priori  in  conformity  with  the 
relations  of  space,  so,  from  the  principle  of  the  inner  sense,  I  can 
say  quite  generally  that  all  phenomena  are  in  time,  and  stand 
necessarily  in  relations  of  time. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  389 

We  see,  then,  that  time  is  empirically  real,  or  is  objectively 
true  in  relation  to  all  objects  that  are  capable  of  being  presented 
to  our  senses.  And  as  our  perception  always  is  sensuous,  no  ob- 
ject can  ever  be  presented  to  us  in  experience,  which  does  not 
conform  to  time  as  its  condition.  On  the  other  hand,  we  deny 
to  time  all  claim  to  absolute  reality,  because  such  a  claim,  in 
paying  no  heed  to  the  form  of  sensible  perception,  assumes  time 
to  be  an  absolute  condition  or  property  of  things.  Such  proper- 
ties, as  supposed  to  belong  to  things  in  themselves,  can  never  be 
presented  to  us  in  sense.  From  this  we  infer  the  transcendental 
ideality  of  time ;  by  which  we  mean  that,  in  abstraction  from 
the  subjective  conditions  of  sensible  perception,  time  is  simply 
nothing,  and  cannot  be  said  either  to  subsist  by  itself,  or  to  inhere 
in  things  that  do. so  subsist. 


Conclusion  of  the  Transcendental  ^Esthetic* 

We  have,  then,  in  the  Transcendental  ^Esthetic,  one  of  the 
elements  required  in  the  solution  of  the  general  problem  of  tran- 
scendental philosophy:  How  are  a  priori  synthetic  propositions 
possible  ?  Such  propositions  rest  upon  space  and  time,  which  are 
pure  a  priori  perceptions.  To  enable  us  to  go  beyond  a  given 
conception,  in  an  a  priori  judgment,  we  have  found  that  some- 
thing is  needed,  which  is  not  contained  in  the  conception,  but 
in  the  perception  corresponding  to  it,  something  therefore  that 
may  be  connected  with  that  conception  synthetically.  But  such 
judgments,  as  based  upon  perception,  can  never  extend  beyond 
objects  of  sense,  and  therefore  hold  true  only  for  objects  of  possi- 
ble experience. 

TRANSCENDENTAL  LOGIC 

i.   General  Logic. 

There  are  two  ultimate  sources  from  which  knowledge  comes 
to  us :  either  we  receive  ideas  in  the  form  of  impressions,  or,  by 
our  spontaneous  faculty  of  conception,  we  know  an  object  by 
means  of  those  ideas.  In  the  former  case,  the  object  is  given  to 


39o  KANT 

us ;  in  the  latter  case,  it  is  thought  in  relation  to  the  impressions 
that  arise  in  our  consciousness.  Perception  and  conception, 
therefore,  are  the  two  elements  that  enter  into  all  our  knowledge. 
To  every  conception  some  form  of  perception  corresponds,  and 
no  perception  yields  knowledge  without  conception.  .  -.  . 

If  sensibility  is  the  receptivity  of  the  mind  in  the  actual  ap- 
prehension of  some  impression,  understanding  is  the  spontaneity 
of  knowledge,  or  the  faculty  that  of  itself  produces  ideas.  We 
are  so  constituted  that  our  perception  always  is  sensuous;  or  it 
shows  merely  the  manner  in  which  we  are  affected  by  objects. 
But  we  have  also  understanding,  or  the  faculty  of  thinking  the 
object  of  sensuous  perception.  Neither  of  these  is  to  be  regarded 
as  superior  to  the  other.  Without  sensibility  no  object  would 
be  given  to  us,  without  understanding  none  would  be  thought. 
Thoughts  without  content  are  empty,  perceptions  without  con- 
ceptions are  blinql.  It  is  therefore  just  as  necessary  to  make  our 
conceptions  sensuous,  that  is,  to  add  the  object  to  them  in 
perception,  as  it  is  to  make  our  perceptions  intelligible,  that  is, 
to  bring  them  under  conceptions.  Neither  of  these  faculties  or 
capacities  can  do  the  work  of  the  other.  Understanding  can 
perceive  nothing,  the  senses  can  think  nothing.  Knowledge 
arises  only  from  their  united  action.  But  this  is  no  reason  for 
confusing  the  function  of  either  with  that  of  the  other,  it  is  rather 
a  strong  reason  for  carefully  separating  and  distinguishing  the 
one  from  the  other.  Hence  it  is,  that  we  distinguish  ^Esthetic, 
as  the  science  of  the  universal  rules  of  sensibility,  from  Logic, 
which  is  the  science  of  the  universal  rules  of  understanding. 

2.    Transcendental  Logic. 

Pure  general  logic,  then,  abstracts  from  all  the  content  of 
knowledge,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  from  all  relation  of  know- 
ledge to  its  objects,  and  considers  merely  the  logical  form  im- 
plied in  the  relation  of  one  element  of  knowledge  to  another, 
or  the  universal  form  of  thought.  Now,  we  have  learned  from 
the  Transcendental  ^Esthetic  that  there  are  pure  as  well  as  em- 
pirical perceptions,  and  it  may  well  be,  that  a  similar  distinction 
obtains  between  the  pure  and  the  empirical  thought  of  objects. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  391 

In  that  case,  there  will  be  a  logic  that  does  not  abstract  from  all 
the  content  of  knowledge.  Containing  merely  the  rules  of  the 
pure  thought  of  an  object,  it  will  exclude  all  knowledge,  the 
content  of  which  is  empirical.  It  will  also  refer  our  knowledge 
of  objects  to  its  origin,  in  so  far  as  that  origin  cannot  be  ascribed 
to  objects  themselves. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  there  are  conceptions  which  relate 
to  objects  a  priori,  but  which,  as  mere  functions  of  pure  thought, 
stand  to  objects  in  quite  a  different  relation  from  that  in  which 
perceptions  stand  to  them,  whether  these  are  pure  or  sensuous. 
As  these  conceptions  will  be  of  neither  empirical  nor  aesthetic 
origin,  we  get  the  idea  of  a  science  of  pure  understanding  and 
pure  reason,  the  aim  of  which  is  to  examine  into  the  knowledge 
which  we  obtain  by  thinking  objects  completely  a  priori.  Such 
a  science,  as  setting  forth  the  origin,  the  limit,  and  the  objective 
validity  of  pure  conceptions,  we  must  call  Transcendental  Logic. 

4.  Division  of  Transcendental  Logic  into  Analytic  and  Dialectic. 

Just  as  in  Transcendental  ^Esthetic  we  isolated  the  sensibility, 
so  in  Transcendental  Logic  we  shall  isolate  the  understanding, 
and  throw  into  relief  that  element  in  our  knowledge  which  has 
its  origin  in  the  understanding  alone.  This  pure  element  can  be 
employed  in  actual  knowledge,  only  on  condition  that  objects  are 
presented  in  perception  to  which  it  may  be  applied.  For,  with- 
out perception,  the  pure  element  of  knowledge  has  no  object, 
and  therefore  remains  perfectly  empty.  That  part  of  Transcen- 
dental Logic  which  sets  forth  the  pure  element  in  knowledge 
that  belongs  to  understanding,  and  the  principles  without  which 
no  object  whatever  can  be  thought,  is  Transcendental  Analytic. 
It  is  a  logic  of  truth,  because  no  knowledge  can  contradict  it 
without  losing  all  content,  that  is,  all  relation  to  an  object,  and 
therefore  all  truth.  But  there  is  a  very  seductive  and  deceptive 
tendency  to  employ  that  pure  knowledge  of  understanding  and 
those  principles  by  themselves,  and  to  apply  them  even  beyond 
the  limits  of  experience.  Only  in  experience,  however,  can  any 
matter  or  object  be  found  to  which  the  pure  conceptions  of  under- 
standing may  be  applied.  There  is  thus  a  danger  that  under- 


392  KANT 

standing,  with  a  mere  show  of  rationality,  may  make  a  material 
use  of  its  purely  formal  principles,  and  pass  judgments  upon  all 
objects  without  distinction,  whether  they  are  given  to  us  or  not, 
and  perhaps  even  although  they  cannot  be  given  to  us  at  all.  That 
which  is  merely  a  canon  for  the  criticism  of  understanding  in  its 
empirical  use,  is  misused,  when  it  is  supposed  to  be  an  organon 
that  may  be  employed  universally  and  without  restriction,  and 
when  it  permits  understanding  to  venture  upon  synthetic  judg- 
ments about  objects  in  general,  and  to  pronounce  and  decide 
upon  them.  Pure  understanding  is  then  employed  dialectically. 
The  second  part  of  Transcendental  Logic  must  therefore  con- 
sist of  a  criticism  of  dialectical  illusion.  It  is  called  Dialectic, 
not  because  it  is  an  art  of  producing  illusion  dogmatically  —  a 
favourite  art  of  too  many  metaphysical  jugglers  —  but  because 
it  is  a  criticism  of  understanding  and  reason  in  their  hyper- 
physical  use;  a  criticism,  the  aim  of  which  is  to  expose  their 
specious  and  groundless  pretensions  to  the  discovery  and  ex- 
tension of  knowledge  through  purely  transcendental  principles, 
and  to  preserve  understanding  from  all  sophistical  illusion. 

TRANSCENDENTAL  ANALYTIC 
BOOK  I.    ANALYTIC  OF  CONCEPTIONS 

CHAPTER  I.  GUIDING- THREAD  FOR  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE 
CATEGORIES 

The  first  part  of  Transcendental  Analytic  deals  with  the  concep- 
tions, the  second  part  with  the  judgments  of  pure  understanding. 

It  is  the  privilege  as  well  as  the  duty  of  transcendental  phi- 
losophy, to  proceed  in  the  search  for  its  conceptions  upon  a 
definite  principle ;  for  these  conceptions  spring  from  the  under- 
standing pure  and  unmixed,  and  must  therefore  be  connected 
together  in  the  unity  of  a  single  conception  or  idea.  This  one 
fundamental  conception  is  a  systematic  principle,  by  the  appli- 
cations of  which  we  may  be  certain  a  priori  that  we  have  found 
out  all  the  pure  conceptions  of  understanding,  and  have  assigned 
to  each  its  proper  place  in  the  whole  system. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  393 

Section  I.  —  The  Logical  Use  0}  Understanding. 

Understanding  has.  already  been  defined,  negatively,  as  a 
non-sensuous  faculty  of  knowledge.  Now,  as  without  sensibility 
we  can  have  no  perception,  understanding  cannot  be  a  faculty 
of  perception.  But,  apart  from  perception,  the  only  other  mode 
of  obtaining  knowledge  is  by  means  of  conceptions.  Therefore 
the  knowledge  that  is  due  to  understanding,  or  at  least  to  human 
understanding,  is  a  knowledge  by  means  of  conceptions;  it  is 
not  perceptive,  but  discursive.  All  perceptions,  as  sensuous,  rest 
upon  affections,  whereas  conceptions  rest  upon  functions.  By 
function  I  mean  the  unity  of  act,  in  which  various  ideas  are 
brought  under  a  common  idea.  Conceptions  are  based  on  the 
spontaneity  of  thought,  sensuous  perceptions  on  the  receptivity 
of  impressions.  Now  the  only  use  that  understanding  can  make 
of  these  conceptions  is  to  judge  by  means  of  them.  And,  as  with- 
out perception  there  is  no  direct  consciousness  of  an  object,  a 
conception  is  never  related  directly  to  an  object,  but  always 
indirectly,  through  a  perception  or  through  another  conception. 
Judgment  is  therefore  the  indirect  knowledge  of  an  object,  or 
the  knowledge  of  knowledge.  In  every  judgment  there  is  a  con- 
ception which  holds  true  of  various  ideas,  and,  among  others, 
of  one  which  is  directly  referred  to  an  object.  Thus,  in  the  judg- 
ment that  all  bodies  are  divisible,  the  conception  of  divisibility 
applies  to  various  other  conceptions,  but  it  is  in  an  especial  way 
related  to  the  conception  of  body,  as  this  again  is  related  to  cer- 
tain objects  that  we  directly  perceive.  Of  these  objects  we  are 
therefore  conscious  only  indirectly  in  the  conception  of  divisi- 
bility. Accordingly,  all  judgments  are  functions  of  unity,  because 
they  do  not  consist  in  the  direct  knowledge  of  an  object,  but 
bring  that  and  other  knowledge  under  the  unity  of  a  higher  and 
more  comprehensive  conception.  And  as  we  can  reduce  all  acts 
of  understanding  to  judgments,  understanding  itself  may  be 
said  to  be  a  jaculty  of  judgment.  For,  as  we  have  seen  above, 
understanding  is  the  faculty  of  thought.  To  think  is  to  know 
by  means  of  conceptions.  But  conceptions,  as  predicates  of 
possible  judgments,  are  relative  to  the  idea  of  an  object  not  yet 


394  KANT 

determined.  By  the  conception  of  body  is  meant  something  — 
metal,  for  instance  —  which  may  be  known  by  means  of  that 
conception.  Body  is  a  conception,  just  because  it  contains  under 
it  other  determinations  by  means  of  which  it  may  be  referred  to 
actual  objects.  It  is  thus  the  predicate  of  a  possible  judgment, 
such  a*s,  that  every  metal  is  a  body.  We  may,  therefore,  find  out 
all  the  possible  functions  of  judgment  if  we  can  but  tell  what  are 
all  the  possible  functions  of  unity  in  judgment.  And  this,  as  we 
shall  see  in  the  next  section,  can  quite  readily  be  done. 

Section  II.  —  9.    The  Logical  Function  o\   Understanding  in 

Judgment. 

If  we  abstract  from  all  the  content  of  a  judgment,  and  only 
pay  heed  to  the  mere  form  of  understanding,  we  find  that  the 
functions  of  thought  in  judgment  may  be  brought  under  four 
heads,  each  of  which  contains  three  subdivisions.  Thus  we  get 
the  following  table  :  — 

i.    Quantity  of  Judgments. 

Universal. 
Particular. 
Singular. 
2.    Quality.  3.    Relation. 

Affirmative.  Categorical. 

Negative.  Hypothetical. 

Infinite.  Disjunctive. 

4.  Modality. 

Problematic. 

Assertoric. 

Apodictic. 

Pure  synthesis,  viewed  in  its  most  general  aspect,  is  the  pure 
conception  of  understanding.  By  this  pure  synthesis  I  under- 
stand that  which  rests  upon  a  basis  of  a  priori  synthetic  unity. 
Thus  in  arithmetical  addition,  as  is  readily  seen  in  the  case  of 
larger  numbers,  the  synthesis  conforms  to  a  conception,  because 
it  proceeds  on  a  common  basis  of  unity,  as,  for  instance,  the  de- 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  395 

cade.  By  this  conception  the  unity  in  the  synthesis  of  a  complex 
is  made  necessary. 

By  analysis  various  ideas  are  brought  under  a  single  concep- 
tion, as  is  shown  in  general  logic.  But  it  belongs  to  transcen- 
dental logic  to  tell  us  how  the  pure  synthesis  0}  ideas  is  brought 
to  conceptions.  The  first  element  that  enters  into  the  know- 
ledge of  all  objects  a  priori  is  the  complex  content  of  pure  per- 
ception. The  second  element  is  the  synthesis  of  this  content  by 
imagination.  But  as  even  this  is  not  enough  to  constitute  know- 
ledge, a  third  element  is  supplied  by  understanding,  in  the  con- 
ceptions which  give  unity  to  this  pure  synthesis,  and  which  con- 
sist solely  in  the  consciousness  of  this  necessary  synthetic  unity. 

The  same  function  which  gives  unity  to  various  ideas  in  a 
judgment  also  gives  unity  to  the  mere  synthesis  of  various  ideas 
in  a  perception  ;  and  this  synthesis,  in  its  most  general  expres- 
sion, is  the  pure  conception  of  understanding.  Understanding  at 
once  gives  analytic  unity  to  conceptions,  and  synthetic  unity 
to  the  complex  content  of  perception;  and  indeed  the  logical 
form  of  judgment  presupposes  and  rests  upon  the  very  same 
acts  of  thought  as  those  by  which  a  transcendental  content  is 
given  to  the  various  determinations  of  our  consciousness.  Hence 
it  is  that  the  pure  conceptions  of  understanding,  as  they  are  fitly 
called,  apply  to  objects  a  priori,  and  therefore  do  not  fall  within 
the  view  of  general  logic. 

In  this  way  there  arises  exactly  the  same  number  of  pure  con- 
ceptions of  understanding,  applying  a  priori  to  all  objects  of  per- 
ception, as  there  are  logical  functions  of  judgments  in  the  preced- 
ing table ;  for  those  functions  completely  specify  understanding, 
and  give  a  perfect  measure  of  its  powers.  We  shall  call  the  pure 
conceptions  categories,  after  Aristotle,  because  our  object  is  the 
same  as  his,  although  our  method  and  results  are  widely  different. 

TABLE   OF  CATEGORIES 

i.  Quantity. 

Unity. 

Plurality. 

Totality. 


396  KANT 

2.    Quality.  3.    Relation. 

Reality.  Inherence  and  Subsistence  (sub- 

stantia  et  accidens). 

Negation.  Causality  and  Dependence  (cause 

and  effect). 

Limitation.  Community  (reciprocity  between 

the  active  and  the  passive). 

4.    Modality. 

Possibility  Impossibility. 

Existence  Non-existence. 

•    Necessity  Contingency. 

This,  then,  is  a  list  of  all  the  primary  pure  conceptions  of 
synthesis  that  understanding  contains  within  itself  a  priori. 
Because  it  contains  these  pure  conceptions,  it  is  called  pure 
understanding,  and  only  by  them  can  it  understand  anything 
in  the  complex  content  of  perception,  that  is,  think  an  object. 
The  table  has  not  been  left  to  the  uncertain  suggestions  of  em- 
pirical induction,  but  has  been  drawn  up  systematically,  on  the 
basis  of  a  single  principle,  namely,  the  faculty  of  judgment,  or, 
what  is  the  same  thing,  the  faculty  of  thought. 

ii. 

The  table  of  categories  suggests  some  nice  points,  which, 
perhaps,  might  be  found  to  have  an  important  bearing  on  the 
scientific  form  of  all  knowledge  of  reason,  (i)  The  four  classes 
of  categories  naturally  fall  into  two  groups;  those  in  the  first 
group  being  concerned  with  objects  of  perception,  pure  as  well 
as  empirical,  while  those  in  the  second  group  are  concerned  with 
the  existence  of  those  objects,  as  related  either  to  one  another 
or  to  understanding.  The  first  may  be  called  the  mathematical, 
the  second  the  dynamical  categories.  The  former,  as  is  obvious, 
have  no  correlates,  the  latter  have  correlates.  This  distinction 
must  have  some  ground  in  the  nature  of  understanding.  (2)  It 
is  also  suggestive  that  the  number  of  categories  in  each  class  is 
three,  because  usually  all  a  priori  division  must  be  by  dichotomy. 
To  this  it  must  be  added  that  the  third  category  in  each  class 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  397 

arises  from  the  union  of  the  second  category  with  the  first.  Thus 
totality  or  allness  is  just  plurality  regarded  as  unity,  limitation 
is  reality  combined  with  negation,  community  is  causality  in 
which  two  substances  mutually  determine  one  another,  and  lastly, 
necessity  is  just  existence  given  by  mere  possibility  itself. 

CHAPTER  II.  DEDUCTION  OF  THE  CATEGORIES 
13.    Principles  of  a  Transcendental  Deduction. 

There  is  a  distinction  in  law  between  the  question  of  right 
(quid  juris)  and  the  question  of  fact  (quid  facti).  Both  must  be 
proved,  but  proof  of  a  right  or  claim  is  called  its  deduction.  Now, 
among  the  variety  of  conceptions  that  make  up  the  very  mixed 
web  of  human  knowledge,  there  are  certain  conceptions  that  put 
in  a  claim  for  use  entirely  a  priori,  and  this  claim  of  course  stands 
in  need  of  deduction.  It  is  useless  to  refer  to  the  fact  of  expe- 
rience in  justification  of  such  a  claim,  but  at  the  same  time  we 
must  know  how  conceptions  can  possibly  refer  to  objects  which 
yet  they  do  not  derive  from  experience.  An  explanation  of  the 
manner  in  which  conceptions  can  relate  a  priori  to  objects,  I 
call  a  transcendental  deduction ;  and  from  it  I  distinguish  an 
empirical  deduction,  which  simply  tells  us  how  a  conception  has 
been  acquired  by  experience  and  reflection  on  experience.  The 
former  proves  our  right  to  the  use  of  a  certain  conception,  the 
latter  merely  points  out  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  has  come  into 
our  possession  in  a  certain  way. 

The  transcendental  deduction  of  all  a  priori  conceptions  must 
therefore  be  guided  by  the  principle,  that  these  conceptions  must 
be  the  a  priori  conditions  of  all  possible  experience.  Concep- 
tions which  make  experience  possible  are  for  that  very  reason 
necessary.  An  analysis  of  the  experience  in  which  they  occur 
would  not  furnish  a  deduction  of  them,  but  merely  an  illustra- 
tion of  their  use.  Were  they  not  the  primary  conditions  of  all  the 
experience  in  which  objects  are  known  as  phenomena,  their  rela- 
tion to  even  a  single  object  would  be  utterly  incomprehensible. 


398  KANT 

Section  II.  —  A  Priori  Conditions  of  Experience.1 

If  consciousness  were  broken  up  into  a  number  of  mutually 
repellent  states,  each  isolated  and  separated  from  the  rest, 
knowledge  would  never  arise  in  us  at  all,  for  knowledge  is  a 
whole  of  related  and  connected  elements.  When,  therefore,  I 
call  sensible  perception  a  synopsis,  in  order  to  mark  the  com- 
plexity of  its  content,  it  must  be  remembered  that  in  this  synop- 
sis a  certain  synthesis  is  implied,  and  that  knowledge  is  possible 
only  if  spontaneity  is  combined  with  receptivity.  This  is  the 
reason  why  we  must  say  that  in  all  knowledge  there  is  a  three- 
fold synthesis :  firstly,  the  apprehension  in  perception  of  various 
ideas,  or  modifications  of  the  mind;  secondly,  their  reproduction 
in  imagination;  and,  thirdly,  their  recognition  in  conception. 
These  three  forms  of  synthesis  point  to  three  sources  of  know- 
ledge, which  make  understanding  itself  possible,  and  through 
it  all  experience  as  an  empirical  product  of  understanding. 

i.  Synthesis  of  Apprehension  in  Perception. 

Whatever  may  be  the  origin  of  our  ideas,  whether  they  are  due 
to  the  influence  of  external  things  or  are  produced  by  internal 
causes,  whether  as  objects  they  have  their  source  a  priori  or  in 
experience,  as  modifications  of  the  mind  they  must  belong  to  the 
inner  sense.  All  knowledge  is,  therefore,  at  bottom  subject  to  time 
as  the  formal  condition  of  inner  sense,  and  in  time  every  part  of 
it  without  exception  must  be  ordered,  connected,  and  brought  into 
relation  with  every  other  part.  This  is  a  general  remark,  which 
must  be  kept  in  mind  in  the  whole  of  our  subsequent  inquiry. 

We  should  not  be  conscious  of  the  various  determinations, 
that  every  perception  contains  within  itself  were  we  not,  in  the 
succession  of  our  impressions,  conscious  of  time.  If  each  feel- 
ing were  limited  to  a  single  moment,  it  would  be  an  absolutely 
individual  unit.  In  order  that  the  various  determinations  of  a 
perception,  as,  for  instance,  the  parts  of  a  line,  should  form  a 

unity,  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  be  run  over  and  held  to- 

*>  *  ,.  ..      '•  * 

1  All  that  comes  under  this  heading  is  taken  from  the  first  edition  of  the  Critique 
of  Pure  Reason  and  forms  what  is  called  in  the  preface  the  "subjective  deduction." 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE   REASON          399 

gether  by  the  mind.  This  act  I  call  the  synthesis  of  apprehension. 
It  is  apprehension,  because  it  goes  straight  to  perception;  it  is 
synthesis,  because  only  by  synthesis  can  the  various  elements  of 
perception  be  united  in  one  subject  of  consciousness. 

Now,  this  synthesis  of  apprehension  must  be  employed  a 
priori  also,  or  in  relation  to  determinations  not  given  in  sen- 
sible experience.  Otherwise  we  should  have  no  consciousness 
of  space  and  time  a  priori,  for  these  can  be  produced  only  by  a 
synthesis  of  the  various  determinations  that  are  presented  by 
sensibility  in  its  original  receptivity.  There  is  therefore  a  pure 
synthesis  of  apprehension. 

2.  Synthesis  oj  Reproduction  in  Imagination. 


There  must  be  something  which  makes  the  reproduction  of 
phenomena  possible  at  all,  something  which  is  the  a  priori  ground 
of  a  necessary  synthetic  unity.  That  this  is  so,  we  may  at  once 
see,  if  we  reflect  that  phenomena  are  not  things  in  themselves, 
but  are  merely  the  play  of  our  own  ideas,  and  therefore  at  bottom 
determinations  of  the  inner  sense.  Now,  if  we  can  show  that 
even  our  purest  a  priori  perceptions  can  yield  knowledge,  only 
in  so  far  as  they  involve  such  a  combination  as  makes  a  thorough- 
going synthesis  of  reproduction  possible,  we  may  conclude  that 
this  synthesis  of  imagination,  being  prior  to  all  experience,  rests 
upon  a  priori  principles.  We  must  then  assume  a  pure  tran- 
scendental synthesis  as  the  necessary  condition  of  all  experience, 
for  experience  is  impossible  unless  phenomena  are  capable  of 
being  reproduced.  Now,  if  I  draw  a  line  in  thought,  or  think 
of  the  time  from  one  day  to  another,  or  even  think  of  a  certain 
number,  it  is  plain  that  I  must  be  conscious  of  the  various  deter- 
minations one  after  the  other.  But  if  the  earlier  determinations 
-  the  prior  parts  of  the  line,  the  antecedent  moments  of  time, 
the  units  as  they  arise  one  after  the  other  —  were  to  drop  out  of 
my  consciousness,  and  could  not  be  reproduced  when  I  passed 
on  to  the  later  determinations,  I  should  never  be  conscious  of  a 
whole;  and  hence  not  even  the  simplest  and  most  elementary 
idea  of  space  or  time  could  arise  in  my  consciousness. 


400  KANT 

The  synthesis  of  reproduction  is  therefore  inseparably  bound 
up  with  the  synthesis  of  apprehension.  And  as  the  synthesis  of 
apprehension  is  the  transcendental  ground  of  the  possibility  of 
all  knowledge  —  of  pure  a  priori  as  well  as  empirical  know- 
ledge —  the  reproductive  synthesis  of  imagination  belongs  to 
the  transcendental  functions  of  the  mind,  and  may  therefore  be 
called  the  transcendental  faculty  of  imagination. 

3.  Synthesis  oj  Recognition  in  Conception. 

There  can  be  no  knowledge  without  a  conception,  however 
indefinite  or  obscure  it  may  be,  and  a  conception  is  in  form 
always  a  universal  that  serves  as  a  rule.  The  conception  of  body, 
for  instance,  as  a  unity  of  the  various  determinations  thought  in 
it,  serves  as  a  rule  in  our  knowledge  of  external  phenomena. 
Now,  it  is  always  a  transcendental  condition  that  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  that  which  is  necessary.  There  must,  therefore, 
be  a  transcendental  ground  of  the  unity  of  consciousness  in 
the  synthesis  of  the  various  determinations  implied  in  every 
perception ;  and  this  ground  must  be  -necessary  to  the  concep- 
tion of  any  object  whatever,  and  therefore  to  the  conception  of 
every  object  of  experience.  In  no  other  way  can  there  be  any 
object  for  our  perceptions;  for  the  object  is  nothing  but  that 
something  =  x,  the  conception  of  which  involves  necessity  of 
synthesis. 

No  knowledge  whatever,  no  unity  and  connection  of  objects, 
is  possible  for  us,  apart  from  that  unity  of  consciousness  which 
is  prior  to  all  data  of  perception,  and  without  relation  to  which 
no  consciousness  of  objects  is  possible.  This  pure,  original, 
unchangeable  consciousness  I  call  transcendental  apperception. 
That  this  is  the  proper  name  for  it  is  evident,  were  it  only  that 
even  the  purest  objective  unity,  that  of  the  a  priori  conceptions 
of  space  and  time,  is  possible  only  in  so  far  as  perceptions  are 
related  to  it.  The  numerical  unity  of  this  apperception  is,  there- 
fore, just  as  much  the  a  priori  foundation  of  all  conceptions  as 
the  various  determinations  of  space  and  time  are  the  a  priori 
foundation  of  the  perceptions  of  sense. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON          401 

It  is  this  transcendental  unity  of  apperception  which  connects 
all  the  possible  phenomena  that  can  be  gathered  together  in  one 
experience,  and  subjects  them  to  laws.  There  could  be  no  such 
unity  of  consciousness  were  the  mind  not  able  to  be  conscious  of 
the  identity  of  function,  by  which  it  unites  various  phenomena 
in  one  knowledge.  The  original  and  necessary  consciousness  of 
the  identity  of  oneself  is  at  the  same  time  the  consciousness  of  a 
necessary  unity  in  the  synthesis  of  all  phenomena  according  to 
conceptions.  These  conceptions  are  necessary  rules,  which  not 
only  make  phenomena  capable  of  reproduction,  but  determine 
perception  as  perception  of  an  object,  that  is,  bring  it  under  a 
conception  of  something  in  which  various  determinations  are 
necessarily  connected  together.  It  would  be  impossible  for  the 
mind  to  think  itself  as  identical  in  its  various  determinations, 
and  indeed  to  think  that  identity  a  priori,  if  it  did  not  hold  the 
identity  of  its  own  act  before  its  eyes,  and  if  it  did  not,  by  sub- 
jecting to  a  transcendental  unity  all  the  synthesis  of  empirical 
apprehension,  make  the  connection  of  the  various  determina- 
tions implied  in  that  synthesis  possible  in  accordance  with  a 
priori  rules. 

1 6.    The  Original  Synthetic  Unity  0}  Apperception.1 

The  "I  think"  must  be  capable  of  accompanying  all  my  ideas; 
for,  otherwise,  I  should  be  conscious  of  something  that  could 
not  be  thought ;  which  is  the  same  as  saying,  that  I  should  not 
be  conscious  at  all,  or  at  least  should  be  conscious  only  of  that 
which  for  me  was  nothing.  Now,  that  form  of  consciousness 
which  is  prior  to  all  thought,  is  perception.  Hence,  all  the  mani- 
fold determinations  of  perception  have  a  necessary  relation  to 
the  "/  think"  in  the  subject  that  is  conscious  of  them.  The  "/ 
think,"  however,  is  an  act  of  spontaneity,  which  cannot  possibly 
be  due  to  sense.  I  call  it  pure  apperception,  to  distinguish  it  from 
empirical  apperception.  I  call  it  also  the  original  apperception, 
because  it  is  the  self- consciousness  which  produces  the  "/  think" 
Now,  the  "/  think"  must  be  capable  of  accompanying  all  other 

1  What  follows  (16-27)  constitutes  the  "objective  deduction"  of  the  cate- 
gories, as  it  appears  in  the  second  edition  of  the  Critique. 


402  KANT 

ideas,  and  it  is  one  and  the  same  in  all  consciousness ;  but  there 
is- no  other  idea  beyond  the  "7  think"  to  which  self-conscious- 
ness is  bound  in  a  similar  way.  The  unity  of  apperception  I  call 
also  the  transcendental  unity  of  self-consciousness,  to  indicate 
that  upon  it  depends  the  possibility  of  a  priori  knowledge.  For, 
the  various  determinations  given  in  a  certain  perception  would 
not  all  be  in  my  consciousness,  if  they  did  not  all  belong  to  one 
self-consciousness.  True,  I  may  not  be  aware  of  this,  but  yet 
as  they  are  determinations  of  my  consciousness,  they  must  ne-~ 
cessarily  conform  to  the  condition,  without  which  they  are  not 
capable  of  standing  together  in  one  universal  self-consciousness. 
In  no  other  way  would  they  all  without  exception  be  mine.  From 
this  original  combination  important  consequences  follow. 

The  absolute  identity  of  apperception  in  relation  to  all  the 
determinations  given  in  perception,  involves  a  synthesis  of  those 
determinations,  and  is  possible  only  through  consciousness  of 
the  synthesis.  For,  the  empirical  consciousness,  which  accompa- 
nies each  determination  as  it  arises,  is  in  itself  broken  up  into 
units,  and  is  unrelated  to  the  one  identical  subject.  Relation  to 
a  single  subject  does  not  take  place  when  I  accompany  each 
determination  with  consciousness,  but  only  when  I  add  one  de- 
termination to  the  other,  and  am  conscious  of  this  act  of  synthesis. 
It  is  only  because  I  am  capable  of  combining  in  one  consciousness 
the  various  determinations  presented  to  me,  that  I  can  become 
aware  that  in  every  one  of  them  the  consciousness  is  the  s*ame. 
The  analytic  unity  of  apperception  is,  therefore,  possible  only 
under  presupposition  of  a  certain  synthetic  unity.  The  thought, 
that  the  determinations  given  in  a  perception  all  belong  to  me, 
is  the  same  as  the  thought,  that  I  unite  them,  or  at  least  that  I 
am  capable  of  uniting  them  in  one  self-consciousness.  This  does 
not  of  itself  involve  a  consciousness  of  the  synthesis  of  determi- 
nations, but  it  presupposes  the  possibility  of  that  consciousness. 
It  is  only  because  I  am  capable  of  grasping  the  various  determi- 
nations in  one  consciousness,  that  I  can  call  them  all  mine ;  were 
it  not  so,  I  should  have  a  self  as  many-coloured  and  various  as 
the  separate  determinations  of  which  I  am  conscious.  Synthetic 
unity  of  the  various  determinations  of  perception  as  given  a 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  403 

priori,  is  therefore  the  ground  of  that  identity  of  apperception 
itself,  which  precedes  a  priori  every  definite  act  of  thought. 
Now,  objects  cannot  combine  themselves,  nor  can  understand- 
ing learn  that  they  are  combined  by  observing  their  combination. 
All  combination  is  the  work  of  understanding,  and  in  fact  under- 
standing is  itself  nothing  but  the  faculty  of  combining  a  priori, 
and  bringing  under  the  unity  of  apperception,  the  various  deter- 
minations given  in  perception.  The  unity  of  apperception  is, 
-therefore,  the  supreme  principle  of  all  our  knowledge. 


20.  All  Sensuous  Perceptions  stand  under  the  Categories  as  Con- 
ditions under  which  alone  their  Various  Determinations  can 
come  together  in  one  Consciousness. 

The  various  determinations  given  in  a  sensuous  perception 
stand  under  the  original  synthetic  unity  of  apperception,  because 
in  no  way  could  there  possibly  be  any  unity  of  perception.  But 
that  act  of  understanding,  by  which  the  determinations  given  in 
consciousness,  whether  these  are  perceptions  or  conceptions,  are 
brought  under  a  single  apperception,  is  the  logical  function  of 
the  judgment.  Hence,  all  the  elements  given  in  an  empirical 
perception  are  determined  by  one  of  the  logical  functions  of 
judgment,  and  thus  brought  into  one  consciousness.  But  the 
categories  are  just  the  functions  of  judgment,  in  so  far  as  these 
are  applied  in  determination  of  the  various  elements  of  a  given 
perception.  Therefore,  the  various  determinations  in  a  given 
perception  necessarily  stand  under  the  categories. 

22.  The  Category  has  no  Other  Application  in  Knowledge  than 
to  Objects  of  Experience. 

TQ  think  an  object  is  not  the  same  thing  as  to  know  it.  Know- 
ledge involves  two  elements :  firstly,  the  conception  or  category, 
by  which  an  object  in  general  is  thought ;  secondly,  the  percep- 
tion by  which  it  is  given.  If  no  perception  could  be  given,  corre- 
sponding to  the  conception,  I  should  no  doubt  be  able  to  think 
an  object  so  far  as  its  form  was  concerned,  but  as  there  would  be 
no  object  in  which  that  form  was  realized,  I  could  not  possibly 


404  KANT 

have  knowledge  of  any  actual  thing.  So  far  as  I  could  know, 
there  would  be  nothing,  and  could  be  nothing,  to  which  my  thought 
might  be  applied.  Now,  the  Esthetic  has  shown  to  us  that  all 
the  perception  that  we  can  have  is  sensuous ;  hence  the  thought 
of  an  object  in  general,  by  means  of  a  pure  conception  of  un- 
derstanding, can  become  knowledge,  only  by  being  brought  into 
relation  with  objects  of  sense.  Sensuous  perception  is  either  the 
pure  perception  of  space  and  time,  or  the  empirical  perception  of 
that  which  is  directly  presented  through  sensation  as  actually  in 
space  and  time.  By  the  determination  of  space  and  time  them- 
selves, we  can  obtain  that  a  priori  knowledge  of  objects  which 
mathematics  supplies.  But  this  knowledge  is  only  of  the  form 
of  phenomena,  and  it  is  still  doubtful  if  actual  things  must  be 
perceived  in  this  form.  Mathematical  conceptions,  therefore, 
can  be  called  knowledge,  only  if  it  is  presupposed  that  there  are 
actual  things  which  cannot  be  presented  to  us  except  under  the 
form  of  that  pure  sensuous  perception.  Now,  things  in  space 
and  time  are  given  to  us  only  through  empirical  observation, 
that  is,  in  perceptions  that  are  accompanied  by  sensation.  Hence, 
the  pure  conceptions  of  understanding,  even  if  they  are  applied 
to  a  priori  perceptions,  as  in  mathematics,  do  not  yield  a  know- 
ledge of  things.  Before  there  can  be  any  knowledge,  the  pure 
perceptions,  and  the  conceptions  of  understanding  through  the 
medium  of  pure  perceptions,  must  be  applied  to  empirical  per- 
ceptions. The  categories,  therefore,  give  us  no  knowledge  of 
actual  things,  even  with  the  aid  of  perception,  except  in  so 
far  as  they  are  capable  of  being  applied  to  empirical  perception. 
In  other  words,  they  are  merely  conditions  of  the  possibility  of 
empirical  knowledge.  Now,  such  knowledge  is  called  experience. 
Hence  the  categories  have  a  share  in  the  knowledge  of  those 
things  only  that  are  objects  of  possible  experience. 

27.  Result  of  the  Deduction  oj  the  Categories. 

We  cannot  think  an  object  without  categories;  we  cannot 
know  an  object  so  thought  without  perceptions  that  correspond 
to  categories.  Now,  all  our  perceptions  are  sensuous,  and  there- 
fore all  our  knowledge  of  objects  that  are  presented  in  percep- 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  405 

tion  is  empirical.  But  empirical  knowledge  is  experience.  Henc*e 
there  can  be  no  a  priori  knowledge,  except  of  objects  that  are 
capable  of  entering  into  experience. 

But  although  such  knowledge  is  limited  to  objects  of  expe- 
rience, it  is  not  therefore  altogether  derived  from  experience. 
For  pure  perceptions  as  well  as  pure  conceptions  are  elements 
in  knowledge,  and  both  are  found  in  us  a  priori.  There  are  only 
two  ways  in  which  we  can  account  for  a  necessary  coincidence 
of  the  data  of  experience  with  the  conceptions  which  we  form 
of  its  objects :  either  that  experience  must  make  the  conceptions 
possible,  or  the  conceptions  must  make  experience  possible. 
The  former  supposition  is  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  the 
categories,  not  to  speak  of  pure  sensuous  perception;  for  the 
categories,  as  a  priori  conceptions,  are  independent  of  expe- 
rience, and  to  derive  them  from  experience  would  be  a  sort  of 
generatio  aequivoca.  The  alternative  supposition,  which  involves 
what  may  be  called  an  epigehesis  of  pure  reason,  must  therefore 
be  adopted,  and  we  must  hold  that  the  categories,  as  proceeding 
from  understanding,  contain  the  grounds  of  the  possibility  of 
any  experience  whatever. 

Short  Statement  of  the  Deduction. 

What  has  been  shown  in  the  deduction  of  the  categories  is 
that  the  pure  conceptions  of  understanding,  on  which  all  theo- 
retical a  priori  knowledge  is  based,  are  principles  that  make 
experience  possible.  In  other  words,  they  are  principles^fdr  the 
general  determination  of  phenomena  in  space  and  time,  a  deter- 
mination that  ultimately  flows  from  the  principle  of  the  original . 
synthetic  unity  of  apperception  as  the  form  of  understanding 
in  relation  to  space  and  time,  the  original  forms  of  sensibility. 


THE  CRITIQUE  OF   PURE  REASON* 

[Continued'] 

Translated  from  the  German  by 
F.   MAX  MULLER 

BOOK   II.— ANALYTIC  OF   PRINCIPLES 

INTRODUCTION.     OF  THE  TRANSCENDENTAL 
FACULTY  OF  JUDGMENT 

IF  the  understanding  is  explained  as  the  faculty  of  rules,  the 
faculty  of  judgment  consists  in  performing  the  subsumption 
under  these  rules,  that  is,  in  determining  whether  anything  falls 
under  a  given  rule  (casus  datae  legis)  or  not.  General  logic  con- 
tains no  precepts  for  the  faculty  of  judgment  and  cannot  contain 
them.  For  as  it  takes  no  account  of  the  contents  of  our  know- 
ledge, it  has  only  to  explain  analytically  the  mere  form  of 
knowledge  in  concepts,  judgments,  and  syllogisms,  and  thus  to 
establish  formal  rules  for  the  proper  employment  of  the  under- 
standing. .  .  .  But  although  general  logic  can  give  no  precepts 
to  the  faculty  of  judgment,  the  case  is  quite  different  with  tran- 
scendental logic,  so  that  it  even  seems  as  if  it  were  the  proper 
business  of  the  latter  to  correct  and  to  establish  by  definite 
rules  the  faculty  of  the  judgment  in  the  use  of  the  pure  under- 
standing. .  .  . 

What  distinguishes  transcendental  philosophy  is,  that  besides 
giving  the  rules  (or  rather  the  general  condition  of  rules)  which 
are  contained  in  the  pure  concept  of  the  understanding,  it  can 
at  the  same  time  indicate  a  priori  the  case  to  which  each  rule 
may  be  applied.  The  superiority  which  it  enjoys  in  this  respect 
over  all  other  sciences,  except  mathematics,  is  due  to  this,  that  it 
treats  of  concepts  which  are  meant  to  refer  to  their  objects  a  pri- 
ori, so  that  their  objective  validity  cannot  be  proved  a  posteriori. 

*  Reprinted  from  Immanuel  Kant's  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  translated  by 
F.  Max  Miiller,  London,  Macmillan  &  Co.  Ltd.,  1881,  vol.  ii. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  407 

Our  transcendental  doctrine  of  the  faculty  of  judgment  will 
consist  of  two  chapters.  The  first  will  treat  of  the  sensuous  con- 
dition under  which  alone  pure  concepts  of  the  understanding 
can  be  used.  This  is  what  I  call  the  schematism  of  the  pure 
understanding.  The  second  will  treat  of  the  synthetical  judg- 
ments, which  can  be  derived  a  priori  under  these  conditions 
from  pure  concepts  of  the  understanding,  and  on  which  all 
knowledge  a  priori  depends.  It  will  treat,  therefore,  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  pure  understanding. 


CHAPTER  I.     THE  SCHEMATISM  OF  THE  PURE 

CONCEPTS 

In  comprehending  any  object  under  a  concept,  the  representa- 
tion of  the  former  must  be  homogeneous  with  the  latter,  that  is, 
the  concept  must  contain  that  which  is  represented  in  the  object 
to  be  comprehended  under  it,  for  this  is  the  only  meaning  of 
the  expression  that  an  object  is  comprehended  under  a  con- 
cept. Thus,  for  instance,  the  empirical  concept  of  a  plate  is 
homogeneous  with  the  pure  geometrical  concept  of  a  circle,  the 
roundness  which  is  conceived  in  the  first  forming  an  object  of 
intuition  in  the  latter. 

Now  it  is  clear  that  pure  concepts  of  the  understanding,  as 
compared  with  empirical  or  sensuous  impressions  in  general, 
are  entirely  heterogeneous,  and  can  never  be  met  with  in  any 
intuition.  How  then  can  the  latter  be  comprehended  under  the 
former,  or  how  can  the  categories  be  applied  to  phenomena, 
as  no  one  is  likely  to  say  that  causality,  for  instance,  could  be 
seen  through  the  senses,  and  was  contained  in  the  phenomenon  ? 
It  is  really  this  very  natural  and  important  question  which  ren- 
ders a  transcendental  doctrine  of  the  faculty  of  judgment  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  show  how  it  is  possible  that  any  of  the  pure 
concepts  of  the  understanding  can  be  applied  to  phenomena. 
In  all  other  sciences  in  which  the  concepts  by  which  the  object 
is  thought  in  general  are  not  so  heterogeneous  or  different  from 
'.hose  which  represent  it  in  concrete,  and  as  it  is  given,  there  is 


4o8  KANT 

no  necessity  to  enter  into  any  discussions  as  to  the  applicability 
of  the  former  to  the  latter. 

In  our  case  there  must  be  some  third  thing  homogeneous  on 
the  one  side  with  the  category,  and  on  the  other  with  the  phe- 
nomenon, to  render  the  application  of  the  former  to  the  latter 
possible.  This  intermediate  representation  must  be  pure  (free 
from  all  that  is  empirical)  and  yet  intelligible  on  the  one  side, 
and  sensuous  on  the  other.  Such  a  representation  is  the  tran- 
scendental schema. 

The  concept  of  the  understanding  contains  pure  synthetical 
unity  of  the  manifold  in  general.  Time,  as  the  formal  condition 
of  the  manifold  in  the  internal  sense,  consequently  of  the  con- 
junction of  all  representations,  contains  a  manifold  a  priori  in 
pure  intuition.  A  transcendental  determination  of  time  is  so 
far  homogeneous  with  the  category  (which  constitutes  its  unity) 
that  it  is  general  and  founded  on  a  rule  a  priori  ;  and  it  is  on  the 
other  hand  so  far  homogeneous  with  the  phenomenon,  that  time 
must  be  contained  in  every  empirical  representation  of  the  mani- 
fold. The  application  of  the  category  to  phenomena  becomes 
possible  therefore  by  means  of  the  transcendental  determina- 
tion of  time,  which,  as  a  schema  of  the  concepts  of  the  under- 
standing, allows  the  phenomena  to  be  comprehended  under 
the  category. 


CHAPTER   II.    PRINCIPLES   OF    THE  PURE    UN- 
DERSTANDING 

We  have  in  the  preceding  chapter  considered  the  transcen- 
dental faculty  of  judgment  with  reference  to  those  general  con- 
ditions only  under  which  it  is  justified  in  using  the  pure  con- 
cepts of  the  understanding  for  synthetical  judgments.  It  now 
becomes  our  duty  to  represent  systematically  those  judgments 
which,  under  that  critical  provision,  the  understanding  can 
really  produce  a  priori.  For  this  purpose  our  table  of  categories 
will  be  without  doubt  our  natural  and  best  guide.  .  .  . 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  409 

All  principles  of  the  pure  understanding  are  therefore, 

i 

Axioms  of  Intuition. 
II  III 

Anticipations  of  Analogies  of 

Perception.  Experience. 

IV 

Postulates  of  Empirical 
Thought  in  General. 

•  •••••  •  ••••• 

I.  AXIOMS  OF  INTUITION 

Their  principle  is:  All  intuitions  are  extensive  quantities.1 
I  call  an  extensive  quantity  that  in  which  the  representation 
of  the  whole  is  rendered  possible  by  the  representation  of  its 
parts,  and  therefore  necessarily  preceded  by  it.  I  cannot  repre- 
sent to  myself  any  line,  however  small  it  may  be,  without  draw- 
ing it  in  thought,  that  is,  without  producing  all  its  parts  one  after 
the  other,  starting  from  a  given  point,  and  thus,  first  of  all, 
drawing  its  intuition.  The  same  applies  to  every,  even  the  small- 
est portion  of  time.  I  can  only  think  in  it  the  successive  progress 
from  one  moment  to  another,  thus  producing  in  the  end,  by  all 
portions  of  time  and  their  addition,  a  definite  quantity  of  time. 
As  in  all  phenomena  pure  intuition  is  either  space  or  time,  every 
phenomenon,  as  an  intuition,  must  be  an  extensive  quantity, 
because  it  can  be  known  in  apprehension  by  a  successive  syn- 
thesis only  (of  part  with  part).  All  phenomena  therefore,  when 
perceived  in  intuition,  are  aggregates  (collections)  of  previously 
given  parts,  which  is  not  the  case  with  every  kind  of  quantities, 
but  with  those  only  which  are  represented  to  us  and  apprehended 
as  extensive. 

On  this  successive  synthesis  of  productive  imagination  in 
elaborating  figures  are  founded  the  mathematics  of  extension 
with  their  axioms  (geometry),  containing  the  conditions  of  sen- 

1  The  titles  and  the  statements  of  the  principles  of  the  pure  understanding  are 
taken  from  the  second  edition. 


4io  KANT 

suous  intuition  a  priori,  under  which  alone  the  schema  of  a  pure 
concept  of  an  external  phenomenal  appearance  can  be  produced ; 
for  instance,  between  two  points  one  straight  line  only  is  possible, 
or  two  straight  lines  cannot  enclose  a  space,  etc.  These  are  the 
axioms  which  properly  relate  only  to  quantities  (quanta)  as  such. 
This  transcendental  principle  of  phenomenal  mathematics 
adds  considerably  to  our  knowledge  a  priori.  Through  it  alone 
it  becomes  possible  to  make  pure  mathematics  in  their  full  pre- 
cision applicable  to  objects  of  experience,  which  without  that 
principle  would  by  no  means  be  self-evident,  nay,  has  actually 
provoked  much  contradiction.  Phenomena  are  not  things  in 
themselves.  Empirical  intuition  is  possible  only  through  pure 
intuition  (of  space  and  time),  and  whatever  geometry  says  of 
the  latter  is  valid  without  contradiction  of  the  former.  ...  If 
phenomena  were,  however,  things  in  themselves  nothing  could 
be  known  of  them  a  priori,  nothing  could  be  known  synthetically 
through  pure  concepts  of  space,  and  the  science  which  deter- 
mines these  concepts,  namely,  geometry,  would  itself  become 
impossible. 

II.  ANTICIPATIONS  OF  PERCEPTION 

Their  principle  is  :  In  all  phenomena,  the  Real,  which  is  the 
object  of  a  sensation,  has  intensive  quantity,  that  is  a  degree. 

Apprehension,  by  means  of  sensation  only,  fills  no  more  than 
one  moment  (if  we  do  not  take  into  account  the  succession  of 
many  sensations).  Sensation,  therefore,  being  that  in  the  phe- 
nomenon the  apprehension  of  which  does  not  form  a  successive 
synthesis  progressing  from  parts  to  a  complete  representation, 
is  without  any  extensive  quantity,  and  the  absence  of  sensation 
in  one  and  the  same  moment  would  represent  it  as  empty,  there- 
fore =  o.  What  corresponds  in  every  empirical  intuition  to  sen- 
sation is  reality  (realitas  phaenomenon),  what  corresponds  to  its 
absence  is  negation  =  o.  Every  sensation,  however,  is  capable 
of  diminution,  so  that  it  may  decrease,  and  gradually  vanish. 
There  is  therefore  a  continuous  connection  between  reality  in 
phenomena  and  negation,  by  means  of  many  possible  inter- 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  411 

mediate  sensations,  the  difference  between  which  is  always 
smaller  than  the  difference  between  the  given  sensation  and  zero 
or  complete  negation.  It  thus  follows  that  the  real  ir^each  phe- 
nomenon has  always  Ji^uaiitity,  though  it  is  not  perceived  in 
apprehension,  because  apprehension  takes  place  by  a  momen- 
tary sensation,  not  by  a  successive  synthesis  of  many  sensations ; 
it  does  not  advance  from  the  parts  to  the  whole,  and  though  it 
has  a  quantity,  it  has  not  an  extensive  quantity. 

That  quantity  which  can  be  apprehended  as  unity  only,  and 
in  which  plurality  can  be  represented  by  approximation  only  to 
negation  =  o,  I  call  intensive  quantity.  Every  reality  therefore 
in  a  phenomenon  has  intensive  quantity,  that  is,  a  degree.  .  .  . 


III.  ANALOGIES  or  EXPERIENCE 

Their  principle  is  :  Experience  is  possible  only  through  the 
representation  of  a  necessary  connection  of  perceptions. 

The  three  modi  of  time  are  permanence,  succession,  and  co- 
existence. There  will  therefore  be  three  rules  of  all  relations  of 
phenomena  in  time,  by  which  the  existence  of  every  phenomenon 
with  regard  to  the  unity  of  time  is  determined,  and  these  rules 
will  precede  all  experience,  nay,  render  experience  possible. 

The  general  principle  of  the  three  analogies  depends  on  the 
necessary  unity  of  apperception  with  reference  to  every  possible 
empirical  consciousness  (perception)  at  every  time,  and,  conse- 
quently, as  that  unity  forms  an  a  priori  ground,  on  the  syntheti- 
cal unity  of  all  phenomena,  according  to  their  relation  in  time. 
For  the  original  apperception  refers  to  the  internal  sense  (com- 
prehending all  representations),  and  it  does  so  a  priori  to  its 
form,  that  is,  to  the  relation  of  the  manifold  of  the  empirical 
consciousness  in  time.  The  original  apperception  is  intended 
to  combine  all  this  manifold  according  to  its  relations  in  time, 
for  this  is  what  is  meant  by  its  transcendental  unity  a  priori, 
to  which  all  is  subject  which  is  to  belong  to  my  own  and  my 
uniform  knowledge,  and  thus  to  become  an  object  for  me.  This 
synthetical  unity  in  the  time  relations  of  all  perceptions,  which 
is  determined  a  priori,  is  expressed  therefore  in  the  law,  that  all 


4i2  KANT 

empirical  determinations  of  time  must  be  subject  to  rules  of  the 
general  determination  of  time ;  and  the  analogies  of  experience,  of 
which  we  are  now  going  to  treat,  are  exactly  rules  of  this  kind. 

These  principles  have  this  peculiarity,  that  they  do  not  refer 
to  phenomena  and  the  synthesis  of  their  empirical  intuition,  but 
only  to  the  existence  of  phenomena  and  their  mutual  relation 
with  regard  to  their  existence.  The  manner  in  which  something 
is  apprehended  as  a  phenomenon  may  be  so  determined  a  priori 
that  the  rule  of  its  synthesis  may  give  at  the  same  time  this  in- 
tuition a  priori  in  any  empirical  case,  nay,  may  really  render  it 
possible.  But  the  existence  of  phenomena  can  never  be  known 
a  priori,  and  though  we  might  be  led  in  this  way  to  infer  some 
kind  of  existence,  we  should  never  be  able  to  know  it  definitely, 
or  to  anticipate  that  by  which  the  empirical  intuition  of  one 
differs  from  that  of  others. 


A.  First  Analogy.  Principle  of  the  Permanence  of  Substance. 

In  all  changes  of  phenomena  the  substance  is  permanent,  and 
its  guantum  is  neither  increased  or  diminished  in  nature. 

PROOF 

Our  apprehension  of  the  manifold  of  phenomena  is  always 
successive,  and  therefore  always  changing.  By  it  alone  there- 
fore we  can  never  determine  whether  the  manifold,  as  an  object 
of  experience,  is  coexistent  or  successive,  unless  there  is  some- 
thing in  it  which  exists  always,  that  is,  something  constant  and 
permanent,  while  change  and  succession  are  nothing  but  so 
many  kinds  (modi)  of  time  in  which  the  permanent  exists.  Re- 
lations of  time  are  therefore  possible  in  the  permanent  only 
(coexistence  and  succession  being  the  only  relations  of  time) 
so  that  the  permanent  is  the  substratum  of  the  empirical  repre- 
sentation of  time  itself,  and  in  it  alone  all  determination  of  time 
is  possible.  Permanence  expresses  time  as  the  constant  correla- 
tive of  all  existence  of  phenomena,  of  all  change  and  concomi- 
tancy.  For  change  does  not  affect  time  itself,  but  only  pheno- 
mena in  time  (nor  is  coexistence  a  mode  of  time  itself,  because 


CRITIQUE  OF   PURE   REASON  413 

in  it  no  parts  can  be  coexistent,  but  successive  only).  If  we  were 
to  ascribe  a  succession  to  time  itself,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
admit  another  time  in  which  such  succession  should  be  possible. 
Dnly  through  the  permanent  does  existence  in  different  parts  of 
a  series  of  time  assume  a  quantity  which  we  call  duration.  For 
in  mere  succession  existence  always  comes  and  goes,  and  never 
assumes  the  slightest  quantity.  Without  something  permanent 
therefore  no  relation  of  time  is  possible.  Time,  by  itself,  how- 
ever, cannot  be  perceived,  and  it  is  therefore  the  permanent  in 
phenomena  that  forms  the  substratum  for  all  determination  of 
time,  and  at  the  same  time  the  condition  of  the  possibility  of  all 
synthetical  unity  of  perceptions,  that  is,  of  experience;  while 
with  regard  to  that  permanent  all  existence  and  all  change  in 
time  can  only  be  taken  as  a  mode  of  existence  of  what  is 
permanent.  In  all  phenomena  therefore  the  permanent  is  the 
object  itself,  that  is,  the  substance  (phenomenon),  while  all  that 
changes  or  can  change  belongs  only  to  the  mode  in  which  sub- 
stance or  substances  exist,  therefore  to  their  determinations. 


B.  Second  Analogy.  Principle  o)  the  Succession  of  Time. 

All  changes  take  place  according  to  the  law  of  connection  of 
cause  and  effect. 

PROOF 

This  rule,  by  which  we  determine  everything  according  to  the 
succession  of  time,  is  this :  the  condition  under  which  an  event 
follows  at  all  times  (necessarily)  is  to  be  found  in  what  precedes. 
All  possible  experience  therefore,  that  is,  all  objective  know- 
ledge of  phenomena  with  regard  to  their  relation  in  the  succes- 
sion of  time,  depends  on  "the  principle  of  sufficient  reason." 

The  proof  of  this  principle  rests  entirely  on  the  following  con- 
siderations. All  empirical  knowledge  requires  synthesis  of  the 
manifold  by  imagination,  which  is  always  successive,  one  repre- 
sentation following  upon  the  other.  That  succession,  however, 
in  the  imagination  is  not  at  all  determined  with  regard  to  the 
order  in  which  something  precedes  and  something  follows,  and 


4i4  KANT 

the  series  of  successive  representations  may  be  taken  as  retro- 
gressive as  well  as  progressive-  If  that  synthesis,  however,  is  a 
synthesis  of  apperception  (of  the  manifold  in  a  given  phenome- 
non), then  the  order  is  determined  in  the  object,  or,  to  speak 
more  accurately,  there  is  then  in  it  an  order  of  successive  syn- 
thesis which  determines  the  object,  and  according  to  which  some- 
thing must  necessarily  precede,  and,  when  it  is  once  there,  some- 
thing else  must  necessarily  follow.  If  therefore  my  perception 
is  to  contain  the  knowledge  of  an  event,  or  something  that  really 
happens,  it  must  consist  of  an  empirical  judgment,  by  which 
the  succession  is  supposed  to  be  determined,  so  that  the  event 
presupposes  another  phenomenon  in  time  on  which  it  follows 
necessarily  and  according  to  a  rule.  If  it  were  different,  if  the 
antecedent  phenomenon  were  there,  and  the  event  did  not  fol- 
low on  it  necessarily,  it  would  become  to  me  a  mere  play  of  my 
subjective  imaginations,  or  if  I  thought  it  to  be  objective,  I  should 
call  it  a  dream.  It  is  therefore  the  relation  of  phenomena  (as 
possible  perceptions)  according  to  which  the  existence  of  the 
subsequent  (what  happens)  is  determined  in  time  by  something 
antecedent  necessarily  and  by  rule,  or,  in  other  words,  the  rela- 
tion of  cause  and  effect,  which  forms  the  condition  of  the  ob- 
jective validity  of  our  empirical  judgments  with  regard  to  the 
series  of  perceptions,  and  therefore  also  the  condition  of  the  em- 
pirical truth  of  them,  and  of  experience.  The  principle  of  the 
causal  relation  in  the  succession  of  phenomena  is  valid  therefore 
for  all  objects  of  experience,  also  (under  the  conditions  of  suc- 
cession), because  that  principle  is  itself  the  ground  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  such  experience. 


C.    Third  Analogy.    Principle  of  Community. 

All  substances  in  so  far  as  they  can  be  perceived  as  coexistent 
in  space,  are  always  affecting  each  other  reciprocally. 

PROOF 

Things  are  coexistent  in  so  far  as  they  exist  at  one  and  the  same 
time.  But  how  can  we  know  that  they  exist  at  one  and  the  same 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON          ,415 

time  ?  Only  if  the  order  in  the  synthesis  of  apprehension  of  the 
manifold  is  indifferent,  that  is,  if  I  may  advance  from  A  through 
B,  C,  D,  to  E,  or  contrariwise  from  E  to  A.  For,  if  the  synthesis 
were  successive  in  time  (in  the  order  beginning  with  A  and  ending 
with  E),  it  would  be  impossible  to  begin  the  apprehension  with 
the  perception  of  E  and  to  go  backwards  to  A,  because  A  belongs 
to  past  time,  and  can  no  longer  be  an  object  of  apprehension. 

If  we  supposed  it  possible  that 'in  a  number  of  substances,  as 
phenomena,  each  were  perfectly  isolated,  so  that  none  influenced 
another  or  received  influences  from  another,  then  the  coexistence 
of  them  could  never  become  an  object  of  possible  perception, 
nor  could  the  existence  of  the  one  through  any  process  of 
empirical  synthesis  lead  us  on  to  the  existence  of  another.  For 
if  we  imagined  that  they  were  separated  by  a  perfectly  empty 
space,  a  perception,  proceeding  from  the  one  in  time  to  the  other 
might  no  doubt  determine  the  existence  of  it  by  means  of  a  subse- 
quent perception,  but  would  never  be  able  to  determine  whether 
that  phenomenon  followed  objectively  on  the  other  or  was  coex- 
istent with  it. 

There  must  therefore  be  something  besides  their  mere  exist- 
ence by  which  A  determines  its  place  in  time  for  B,  and  B  for 
A,  because  thus  only  can  these  two  substances  be  represented 
empirically  as  coexistent.  Nothing,  however,  can  determine  the 
place  of  anything  else  in  time,  except  that  which  is  its  cause 
or  the  cause  of  its  determinations.  Therefore  every  substance 
(since  it  can  be  effect  with  regard  to  its  determinations  only) 
must  contain  in  itself  the  causality  of  certain  determinations  in 
another  substance,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  effects  of  the  caus- 
ality of  that  other  substance,  that  is,  substances  miist  stand  in  dy- 
namical communion,  immediately  or  mediately,  with  each  other, 
if  their  coexistence  is  to  be  known  in  any  possible  experience. 
Everything  without  which  the  experience  of  any  objects  would  be 
impossible,  may  be  said  to  be  necessary  with  reference  to  such 
objects  of  experience ;  from  which  it  follows  that  it  is  necessary 
for  all  substances,  so  far  as  they  are  coexistent  as  phenomena,  to 
stand  in  a  complete  communion  of  reciprocity  with  each  other. 


4i  6  KANT 

These  are  the  three  analogies  of  experience.  They  are  nothing 
but  principles  for  determining  the  existence  of  phenomena  in 
time,  according  to  its  three  modes.  First,  the  relation  of  time 
itself,  as  to  a  quantity  (quantity  of  existence,  that  is  duration). 
Secondly,  the  relation  in  time,  as  in  a  series  (successively).  And 
thirdly,  likewise  in  time,  as  the  whole  of  all  existence  (simulta- 
neously). This  unity  in  the  determination  of  time  is  dynamical 
only,  that  is,  time  is  not  looketi  upon  as  that  in  which  experience 
assigns  immediately  its  place  to  every  existence,  for  this  would 
be  impossible ;  because  absolute  time  is  no  object  of  perception 
by  which  phenomena  could  be  held  together ;  but  the  rule  of  the 
understanding  through  which  alone  the  existence  of  phenomena 
can  receive  synthetical  unity  in  time  determines  the  place  of  each 
of  them  in  time,  therefore  a  priori  and  as  valid  for  all  time. 

By  nature  (in  the  empirical  sense  of  the  word)  we  mean  the 
coherence  of  phenomena  in  their  existence,  according  to  neces- 
sary rules,  that  is,  laws.  There  are  therefore  certain  laws,  and 
they  exist  a  priori,  which  themselves  make  nature  possible,  while 
the  empirical  laws  exist  and  are  discovered  through  experience, 
but  in  accordance  with  those  original  laws  which  first  render 
experience  possible.  Our  analogies  therefore  represent  the  unity 
of  nature  in  the  coherence  of  all  phenomena,  under  certain 
exponents,  which  express  the  relation  of  time  (as  comprehend- 
ing all  existence)  to  the  unity  of  apperception,  which  appercep- 
tion can  only  take  place  in  the  synthesis  according  to  rules. 
The  three  analogies,  therefore,  simply  say,  that  all  phenomena 
exist  in  one  nature,  and  must  so  exist  because,  without  such 
unity  a  priori  no  unity  of  experience,  and  therefore  no  determi- 
nation of  objects  in  experience,  would  be  possible. 


IV.  POSTULATES  OF  ALL  EMPIRICAL  THOUGHT 

1.  What  agrees  with  the  formal  conditions  of  experience  (in 
intuition  and  in  concepts)  is  possible. 

2.  What  is  connected  with  the  material  conditions  of  experience 
(sensation)  is  real. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  417 

3.  That  which,  in  its  connection  with  the  real,  is  determined 
by  universal  conditions  o)  experience,  is  (exists  as)  necessary. 

Explanation. 

The  categories  of  modality  have  this  peculiar  character,  that, 
as  determining  an  object,  they  do  not  enlarge  in  the  least  the  con- 
cept to  which  they  are  attached  as  predicates,  but  express  only 
a  relation  to  our  faculty  of  knowledge.  Even  when  the  concept 
of  a  thing  is  quite  complete,  I  can  still  ask  with  reference  to  that 
object,  whether  it  is  possible  only,  or  real  also,  and,  if  the  latter, 
whether  it  is  necessary?  No  new  determinations  of  the  object 
are  thereby  conceived,  but  it  is  only  asked  in  what  relation  it 
(with  all  its  determinations)  stands  to  the  understanding  and  its 
empirical  employment,  to  the  empirical  faculty  of  judgment,  and 
to  reason,  in  its  application  to  experience. 

(i)  The  postulate  of  the  possibility  of  things  demands  that 
the  concept  of  these  should  agree  with  the  formal  conditions  of 
experience  in  general.  Tfeis,  the  objective  form  of  experience  in 
general,  contains  all  synthesis  which  is  required  for  a  knowledge 
of  objects.  A  concept  is  to  be  considered  as  empty,  and  as  refer- 
ring to  no  object,  if  the  synthesis  which  it  contains  does  not  be- 
long to  experience,  whether  as  borrowed  from  it  (in  which  case  it 
is  called  an  empirical  concept),  or  as  a  synthesis  on  which,  as  a 
condition  a  priori,  all  experience  (in  its  form)  depends,  in  which 
case  it  is  a  pure  concept,  but  yet  belonging  to  experience,  because 
its  object  can  only  be  found  in  it.  For  whence  could  the  character 
of  the  possibility  of  an  object,  which  can  be  conceived  by  a 
synthetical  concept  a  priori,  be  derived,  except  from  the  syn- 
thesis which  constitutes  the  form  of  all  empirical  knowledge  of 
objects  ?  It  is  no  doubt  a  necessary  logical  condition,  that  such  a 
concept  must  contain  nothing  contradictory,  but  this  is  by  no 
means  sufficient  to  establish  the  objective  reality  of  a  concept, 
that  is,  the  possibility  of  such  an  object,  as  is  conceived  by  a 
concept.  Thus  in  the  concept  of  a  figure  to  be  enclosed  be- 
tween two  straight  lines,  there  is  nothing  contradictory,  because 
the  concepts  of  two  straight  lines  and  their  meeting  contain 


4i8  KANT 

no  negation  of  a  figure.  The  impossibility  depends,  not  on 
the  concept  itself,  but  on  its  construction  in  space,  that  is,  the 
conditions  of  space  and  its  determinations,  and  it  is  these  that 
have  objective  reality,  or  apply  to  possible  things,  because  they 
contain  in  themselves  the  form  of  experience  in  general  a 
priori. 

(2)  The  postulate  concerning  our  knowledge  of  the  reality 
of  things,  requires  perception,  therefore  sensation  and  conscious- 
ness of  it,  not  indeed  immediately  of  the  object  itself,  the  exist- 
ence of  which  is  to  be  known,  but  yet  of  a  connection  between  it 
and  some  real  perception,  according  to  the  analogies  of  experi- 
ence which  determine  in  general  all  real  combinations  in  expe- 
rience. 

In  the  mere  concept  of  a  thing  no  sign  of  its  existence  can  be 
discovered.  For  though  the  concept  be  ever  so  perfect,  so  that 
nothing  should  be  wanting  in  it  to  enable  us  to  conceive  the 
thing  with  all  its  own  determinations,  existence  has  nothing  to 
do  with  all  this.  It  depends  only  on  thfe  question  whether  such  a 
thing  be  given  us,  so  that  its  perception  may  even  precede  its 
concept.  A  concept  preceding  experience  implies  its  possibility 
only,  while  perception,  which  supplies  the  material  of  a  concept, 
is  the  only  characteristic  of  reality.  It  is  possible,  however,  even 
before  the  perception  of  a  thing,  and  therefore,  in  a  certain  sense, 
a  priori,  to  know  its  existence,  provided  it  hang  together  with 
some  other  perceptions,  according  to  the  principles  of  their  em- 
pirical connection  (analogies).  For  in  that  case  the  existence  of 
a  thing  hangs  together  at  least  with  our  perceptions  in  a  possible 
experience,  and  guided  by  our  analogies  we  can,  starting  from 
our  real  experience,  arrive  at  some  other  thing  in  the  series  of 
possible  perceptions.  Thus  we  know  the  existence  of  some  mag- 
netic matter  pervading  all  bodies  from  the  perception  of  the 
attracted  iron  filings,  though  our  organs  are  so  constituted  as  to 
render  an  immediate  perception  of  that  matter  impossible.  Ac- 
cording to  the  laws  of  sensibility  and  the  texture  of  our  percep- 
tions, we  ought  in  our  experience  to  arrive  at  an  immediate 
empirical  intuition  of  that  magnetic  matter,  if  only  our  senses 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON          4!9 

were  more  acute,  for  their  actual  obtuseness  does  not  concern 
the  form  of  possible  experience.  Wherever,  therefore,  percep- 
tion and  its  train  can  reach,  according  to  empirical  laws,  there 
our  knowledge  also  of  the  existence  of  things  can  reach.  But 
if  we  do  not  begin  with  experience,  or  do  not  proceed  according 
to  the  laws  of  the  empirical  connection  of  phenomena,  we  are 
only  making  a  vain  display,  as  if  we  could  guess  and  discover 
the  existence  of  anything. 

(3)  With  reference  to  the  third  postulate  we  find  that  it  refers 
to  the  material  necessity  in  existence,  and  not  to  the  merely 
formal  and  logical  necessity  in  the  connection  of  concepts.  As 
it  is  impossible  that  the  existence  of  the  objects  of  the  senses 
should  ever  be  known  entirely  a  priori,  though  it  may  be  known 
to  a  certain  extent  a  priori,  namely,  with  reference  to  another 
already  given  existence,  and  as  even  in  that  case  we  can  only 
arrive  at  such  an  existence  as  must  somewhere  be  contained  in 
the  whole  of  the  experience  of  which  the  given  perception  forms 
a  part,  it  follows  that  the  necessity  of  existence  can  never  be 
known  from  concepts,  but  only  according  to  the  general  rules  of 
experience  from  the  connection  always  with  what  is  actually  per- 
ceived. Now,  there  is  no  existence  that  can  be  known  as  neces- 
sary under  the  condition  of  other  given  phenomena,  except  the 
existence  of  effects  from  given  causes,  according  to  the  laws  of 
causality.  It  is  not  therefore  the  existence  of  things  (substances), 
but  the  existence  of  their  state,  of  which  alone  we  can  know  the 
necessity,  and  this  from  other  states  only,  which  are  given  in 
perception,  and  according  to  the  empirical  laws  of  causality. 
Hence  it  follows  that  the  criterium  of  necessity  can  only  be 
found  in  the  law  of  possible  experience,  viz.  that  everything  that 
happens  is  determined  a  priori  by  its  cause  in  phenomena.  We 
therefore  know  in  nature  the  necessity  of  those  effects  only  of 
which  the  causes  are  given,  and  the  character  of  necessity  in 
existence  never  goes  beyond  the  field  of  possible  experience, 
and  even  there  it  does  not  apply  to  the  existence  of  things,  as 
substances,  because  such  substances  can  never  be  looked  upon 
as  empirical  effects  or  as  something  that  happens  and  arises. 
Necessity,  therefore,  affects  only  the  relations  of  phenomena 


420  KANT 

according  to  the  dynamical  law  of  causality,  and  the  possibility, 
dependent  upon  it,  of  concluding  a  priori  from  a  given  existence 
(of  a  cause)  to  another  existence  (that  of  an  effect).  .  .  . 

CHAPTER    III.    DISTINCTION   OF   PHENOMENA 
AND   NOUMENA 

We  have  now  not  only  traversed  the  whole  domain  of  the  pure 
understanding,  and  carefully  examined  each  part  of  it,  but  we 
have  also  measured  its  extent,  and  assigned  to  everything  in  it 
its  proper  place.  This  domain,  however,  is  an  island  and  en- 
closed by  nature  itself  within  limits  that  can  never  be  changed. 
It  is  the  country  of  truth  (a  very  attractive  name),  but  surrounded 
by  a  wide  and  stormy  ocean,  the  true  home  of  illusion,  where 
many  a  fog  bank  and  ice  that  soon  melts  away  tempt  us  to  be- 
lieve in  new  lands,  while  constantly  deceiving  the  adventurous 
mariner  with  vain  hopes,  and  involving  him  in  adventures  which 
he  can  never  leave,  and  yet  can  never  bring  to  an  end.  Before 
we  venture  ourselves  on  this  sea,  in  order  to  explore  it  on  every 
side,  and  to  find  out  whether  anything  is  to  be  hoped  for  there,  it 
will  be  useful  to  glance  once  more  at  the  map  of  that  country 
which  we  are  about  to  leave,  and  to  ask  ourselves,  first,  whether 
we  might  not  be  content  with  what  it  contains,  nay,  whether  we 
must  not  be  content  with  it,  supposing  that  there  is  no  solid 
ground  anywhere  else  on  which  we  could  settle;  secondly,  by 
what  title  we  possess  even  that  domain,  and  may  consider  our- 
selves safe  against  all  hostile  claims.  Although  we  have  suffi- 
ciently answered  these  questions  in  the  course  of  the  analytic,  a 
summary  recapitulation  of  their  solutions  may  help  to  strengthen 
our  conviction,  by  uniting  all  arguments  in  one  point. 

We  have  seen  that  the  understanding  possesses  everything 
which  it  draws  from  itself,  without  borrowing  from  experience, 
for  no  other  purpose  but  for  experience.  The  principles  of  the 
pure  understanding,  whether  constitutive  a  priori  (as  the  mathe- 
matical) or  simply  relative  (as  the  dynamical),  contain  nothing 
but,  as  it  were,  the  pure  schema  of  possible  experience ;  for  that 
experience  derives  its  unity  from  that  synthetical  unity  alone 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  421 

which  the  understanding  originally  and  spontaneously  imparts 
to  the  synthesis  of  imagination,  with  reference  to  apperception, 
and  to  which  all  phenomena,  as  data  of  a  possible  knowledge, 
must  conform  a  priori.  .  .  . 

That  the  understanding  cannot  make  any  but  an  empirical, 
and  never  a  transcendental,  use  of  air  its  principles  a  priori, 
nay,  of  all  its  concepts,  is  a  proposition  which,  if  thoroughly 
understood,  leads  indeed  to  most  important  consequences.  What 
we  call  the  transcendental  use  of  a  concept  in  any  proposition 
is  its  being  referred  to  things  in  general  and  to  things  by  them- 
selves, while  its  empirical  use  refers  to  phenomena  only,  that  is, 
to  objects  of  a  possible  experience.  That  the  latter  use  alone 
is  admissible  will  be  clear  from  the  following  considerations. 
What  is  required  for  every  concept  is,  first,  the  logical  form  of 
a  concept  (of  thought)  in  general ;  and,  secondly,  the  possibility 
of  an  object  to  which  it  refers.  Without  the  latter,  it  has  no 
sense,  and  is  entirely  empty,  though  it  may  still  contain  the 
logical  function  by  which  a  concept  can  be  formed  out  of  any 
data.  The  only  way  in  which  an  object  can  be  given  to  a  con- 
cept is  in  intuition,  and  though  a  pure  intuition  is  possible  a 
priori  and  before  the  object,  yet  even  that  pure  intuition  can 
receive  its  object,  and  with  it  its  objective  validity,  by  an  empiri- 
cal intuition  only,  of  which  it  is  itself  nothing  but  the  form.  All 
concepts,  therefore,  and  with  them  all  principles,  though  they 
may  be  possible  a  priori,  refer  nevertheless  to  empirical  intui- 
tions, that  is,  to  data  of  a  possible  experience.  Without  this, 
they  can  claim  no  objective  validity,  but  are  a  mere  play,  whether 
of  the  imagination  or  of  the  understanding,  with  their  respective 
representations.  .  .  . 

From  this  it  follows  incontestably,  that  the  pure  concepts 
of  the  understanding  never  admit  of  a  transcendental,  but  only 
of  an  empirical  use,  and  that  the  principles  of  the  pure  under- 
standing can  only  be  referred,  as  general  conditions  of  a  possible 
experience,  to  objects  of  the  senses,  never  to  things  by  themselves 
(without  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  we  have  to  look  at 
them). 


422  KANT 

Transcendental  Analytic  has  therefore  yielded  us  this  impor- 
tant result,  that  the  understanding  a  priori  can  never  do  more 
than  anticipate  the  form  of  .a  possible  experience ;  and  as  nothing 
can  be  an  object  of  experience  except  the  phenomenon,  it  follows 
that  the  understanding  can  never  go  beyond  the  limits  of  sensi- 
bility, within  which  alone  objects  are  given  to  us.  Its  principles 
are  principles  for  the  exhibition  of  phenomena  only;  and  the 
proud  name  of  Ontology,  which  presumes  to  supply  in  a  sys- 
tematic form  different  kinds  of  synthetical  knowledge  a  priori 
of  things  by  themselves  (for  instance  the  principle  of  causality), 
must  be  replaced  by  the  more  modest  name  of  a  mere  Analytic 
of  the  pure  understanding. 

If  all  thought  (by  means  of  categories)  is  taken  away  from 
empirical  knowledge,  no  knowledge  of  any  object  remains,  be- 
cause nothing  can  be  thought  by  mere  intuition,  and  the  mere 
fact  that  there  is  within  me  an  affection  of  my  sensibility,  es- 
tablishes in  no  way  any  relation  of  such  a  representation  to  any 
objectjlf,  on  the  contrary,  all  intuition  is  taken  away,  there 
always  remains  the  form  of  thought,  that  is,  the  mode  of  deter- 
mining an  object  for  the  manifold  of  a  possible  intuition.  In 
this  sense  the  categories  may  be  said  to  extend  further  than  sen- 
suous intuition,  because  they  can  think  objects  hi  general  with- 
out any  regard  to  the  special  mode  of  sensibility  in  which  they 
may  be  given ;  but  they  do  not  thus  prove  a  larger  sphere  of 
objects,  because  we  cannot  admit  that  such  objects  can  be  given, 
without  admitting  the  possibility  of  some  other  but  sensuous 
intuition,  for  which  we  have  no  right  whatever. 

I  call  a  concept  problematic,  if  it  is  not  self-contradictory, 
and  if,  as  limiting  other  concepts,  it  is  connected  with  other 
kinds  of  knowledge,  while  its  objective  reality  cannot  be  known 
in  any  way.  Now  the  concept  of  a  noumenon,  that  is  of  a  thing 
which  can  never  be  thought  as  an  object  of  the  senses,  but  only 
as  a  thing  by  itself  (by  the  pure  understanding),  is  not  self- 
contradictory,  because  we  cannot  maintain  that  sensibility  is  the 
only  form  of  intuition.  That  concept  is  also  necessary,  to  pre- 
vent sensuous  intuition  from  extending  to  things  by  themselves ; 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON          423 

that  is,  in  order  to  limit  the  objective  validity  of  sensuous  know- 
ledge (for  all  the  rest  to  which  sensuous  intuition  does  not  ex- 
tend is  called  noumenon,  for  the  very  purpose  of  showing  that 
sensuous  knowledge  cannot  extend  its  domain  over  everything 
that  can  be  thought  by  the  understanding).  But,  after  all,  we 
cannot  understand  the  possibility  of  such  noumena,  and  what- 
ever lies  beyond  the  sphere  of  phenomena  is  (to  us)  empty; 
that  is,  we  have  an  understanding  which  problematically  extends 
beyond  that  sphere,  but  no  intuition,  nay  not  even  the  concep- 
tion of  a  possible  intuition,  by  which,  outside  the  field  of  sen- 
sibility, objects  could  be  given  to  us,  and  our  understanding 
could  extend  beyond  that  sensibility  in  its  assertory  use.  The 
concept  of  a  noumenon  is  therefore  merely  limitative,  and  in- 
tended to  keep  the  claims  of  sensibility  within  proper  bounds, 
therefore  of  negative  use  only.  But  it  is  not  a  mere  arbitrary 
fiction,  but  closely  connected  with  the  limitation  of  sensibility, 
though  incapable  of  adding  anything  positive  to  the  sphere  of 
the  senses. 

A  real  division  of  objects  into  phenomena  and  noumena,  and 
of  the  world  into  a  sensible  and  intelligible  world  (in  a  posi- 
tive sense),  is  therefore  quite  inadmissible,  although  concepts 
may  very  well  be  divided  into  sensuous  and  intellectual.  No 
objects  can  be  assigned  to  these  intellectual  concepts,  nor  can 
they  be  represented  as  objectively  valid.  If  we  drop  the  senses, 
how  are  we  to  make  it  conceivable  that  our  categories  (which 
would  be  the  only  remaining  concepts  for  noumena)  have  any 
meaning  at  all,  considering  that,  in  order  to  refer  them  to  any 
object,  something  more  must  be  given  than  the  mere  unity  of 
thought,  namely,  a  possible  intuition,  to  which  the  categories 
could  be  applied?  With  all  this  the  concept  of  a  noumenon, 
if  taken  as  problematical  only,  remains  not  only  admissible,  but, 
as  a  concept  to  limit  the  sphere  of  sensibility,  indispensable.  In 
this  case,  however,  it  is  not  a  purely  intelligible  object  for  our 
understanding,  but  an  understanding  to  which  it  could  belong 
is  itself  a  problem,  if  we  ask  how  it  could  know  an  object,  not 
discursively  by  means  of  categories,  but  intuitively,  and  yet  in 
a  nonsensuous  intuition,  —  a  process  of  which  we  could  not 


424  KANT 

understand  even  the  bare  possibility.  Our  understanding  thus 
acquires  a  kind  of  negative  extension,  that  is,  it  does  not  become 
itself  limited  by  sensibility,  but,  on  the  contrary,  limits  it,  by 
calling  things  by  themselves  (not  considered  as  phenomena) 
noumena.  In  doing  this,  it  immediately  proceeds  to  prescribe 
limits  to  itself,  by  admitting  that  it  cannot  know  these  noumena 
by  means  of  the  categories,  but  can  only  think  of  them  under 
the  name  of  something  unknown. 


//.   TRANSCENDENTAL  DIALECTIC 

INTRODUCTION.    TRANSCENDENTAL  ILLUSION 

It  is  not  at  present  our  business  to  treat  of  empirical,  for  in- 
stance, optical  appearance  or  illusion,  which  occurs  in  the  em- 
pirical use  of  the  otherwise  correct  rules  of  the  understanding, 
and  by  which,  owing  to  the  influence  of  imagination,  the  faculty 
of  judgment  is  misled.  We  have  to  deal  here  with  nothing  but 
the  transcendental  illusion,  which  touches  principles  never  even 
intended  to  be  applied  to  experience,  which  might  give  us  a 
test  of  their  correctness,  —  an  illusion  which,  in  spite  of  all  the 
warnings  of  criticism,  tempts  us  far  beyond  the  empirical  use 
of  the  categories,  and  deludes  us  with  the  mere  dream  of  an  ex- 
tension of  the  pure  understanding.  All  principles  the  application 
of  which  is  entirely  confined  within  the  limits  of  possible  experi- 
ence, we  shall  call  immanent;  those,  on  the  contrary,  which  tend 
to  transgress  those  limits,  transcendent.  I  do  not  mean  by  this 
the  transcendental  use  or  abuse  of  the  categories,  which  is  a 
mere  fault  of  the  faculty  of  the  judgment,  not  being  as  yet  suffi- 
ciently subdued  by  criticism  nor  sufficiently  attentive  to  the 
limits  of  the  sphere  within  which  alone  the  pure  understanding 
has  full  play,  but  real  principles  which  call  upon  us  to  break 
down  all  those  barriers,  and  to  claim  a  perfectly  new  territory, 
which  nowhere  recognises  any  demarcation  at  all.  Here  tran- 
scendental and  transcendent  do  not  mean  the  same  thing.  The 
principles  of  the  pure  understanding,  which  we  explained  before, 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  425 

are  meant  to  be  only  of  empirical,  and  not  of  transcendental 
application,  that  is,  they  cannot  transcend  the  limits  of  experi- 
ence. A  principle,  on  the  contrary,  which  removes  these  land- 
marks, nay,  insists  on  our  transcending  them,  is  called  tran- 
scendent. If  our  critique  succeeds  in  laying  bare  the  illusion 
of  those  pretended  principles,  the  other  principles  of  a  purely 
empirical  use  may,  in  opposition  to  the  former,  be  called  im- 
manent. 


BOOK    II. -THE    DIALECTICAL    CONCLUSIONS 
OF  PURE  REASON 

One  might  say  that  the  object  of  a  purely  transcendental  idea 
is  something  of  which  we  have  no  concept,  although  the  idea  is 
produced  with  necessity  according  to  the  original  laws  of  reason. 
Nor  is  it  possible  indeed  to  form  of  an  object  that  should  be 
adequate  to  the  demands  of  reason,  a  concept  of  the  under- 
standing, that  is,  a  concept  which  could  be  shown  in  any  pos- 
sible experience,  .and  rendered  intuitive.  It  would  be  better, 
however,  and  less  liable  to  misunderstandings,  to  say  that  we 
can  have  no  knowledge  of  an  object  corresponding  to  an  idea, 
but  a  problematic  concept  only. 

The  transcendental  (subjective)  reality,  at  least  of  pure  con- 
cepts of  reason,  depends  on  our  being  led  to  such  ideas  by  a 
necessary  syllogism  of  reason.  There  will  be  syllogisms  there- 
fore which  have  no  empirical  premises,  and  by  means  of  which 
we  conclude  from  something  which  we  know  to  something  else 
of  which  we  have  no  concept,  and  to  which,  constrained  by  an 
inevitable  illusion,  we  nevertheless  attribute  objective  reality. 
As  regards  their  result,  such  syllogisms  are  rather  to  be  called 
sophistical  than  rational,  although,  as  regards  their  origin,  they 
may  claim  the  latter  name,  because  they  are  not  purely  fictitious 
or  accidental,  but  products  of  the  very  nature  of  reason.  They 
are  sophistications,  not  of  men,  but  of  pure  reason  itself,  from 
which  even  the  wisest  of  men  cannot  escape.  All  he  can  do  is, 
with  great  effort,  to  guard  against  error,  though  never  able  to 


4a6  KANT 

rid  himself  completely  of  an  illusion  which  constantly  torments 
and  mocks  him. 

Of  these  dialectical  syllogisms  of  reason  there  are  therefore 
three  classes  only,  that  is  as  many  as  the  ideas  to  which  their 
conclusions  lead.  In  the  syllogism  of  the  first  class,  I  conclude 
from  the  transcendental  concept  of  the  subject,  which  contains 
nothing  manifold,  the  absoulte  unity  of  the  subject  itself,  of 
which  however  I  have  no  concept  in  this  regard.  This  dialectical 
syllogism  I  shall  call  the  transcendental  paralogism. 

The  second  class  of  the  so-called  sophistical  syllogisms  aims 
at  the  transcendental  concept  of  an  absolute  totality  in  the  series 
of  conditions  to  any  given  phenomenon;  and  I  conclude  from 
the  fact  that  my  concept  of  the  unconditioned  synthetical  unity 
of  the  series  is  always  self-contradictory  on  one  side,  the  cor- 
rectness of  the  opposite  unity,  of  which  nevertheless  I  have  no 
concept  either.  The  state  of  reason  in  this  class  of  dialectical 
syllogisms,  I  shall  call  the  antinomy  of  pure  reason. 

Lastly,  according  to  the  third  class  of  sophistical  syllogisms, 
I  conclude  from  the  totality  of  conditions,  under  which  objects 
in  general,  so  far  as  they  can  be  given  to  me,  must  be  thought, 
the  absolute  synthetical  unity  of  all  conditions  of  the  possibility 
of  things  in  general ;  that  is  to  say,  I  conclude  from  things  which 
I  do  not  know  according  to  their  mere  transcendental  concept,  a 
Being  of  all  beings,  which  I  know  still  less  through  a  transcen- 
dental concept,  and  of  the  unconditioned  necessity  of  which  I 
can  form  no  concept  whatever.  This  dialectical  syllogism  of 
reason  I  shall  call  the  ideal  of  pure  reason. 

CHAPTER  I.  THE  PARALOGISMS  OF  P.URE  REASON 

The  logical  paralogism  consists  in  the  formal  faultiness  of  a 
conclusion,  without  any  reference  to  its  contents.  But  a  tran- 
scendental paralogism  arises  from  a  transcendental  cause,  which 
drives  us  to  a  formally  false  conclusion.  Such  a  paralogism, 
therefore,  depends  most  likely  on  the  very  nature  of  human 
reason,  and  produces  an  illusion  which  is  inevitable,  though  not 
insoluble. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  427 

We  now  come  to  a  concept  which  was  not  inserted  in  our  gen- 
eral list  of  transcendental  concepts,  and  yet  must  be  reckoned  with 
them,  without  however  changing  that  table  in  the  least,  or  prov- 
ing it  to  be  deficient.  This  is  the  concept,  or,  if  the  term  is  pre- 
ferred, the  judgment,  /  think.  It  is  easily  seen,  however,  that 
this  concept  is  the  vehicle  of  all  concepts  in  general,  therefore 
of  transcendental  concepts  also,  being  always  comprehended 
among  them,  and  being  itself  transcendental  also,  though  with- 
out any  claim  to  a  special  title,  inasmuch  as  it  serves  only  to 
introduce  all  thought,  as  belonging  to  consciousness.  However 
free  that  concept  may  be  from  all  that  is  empirical  (impressions 
of  the  senses),  it  serves  nevertheless  to  distinguish  two  objects 
within  the  nature  of  our  faculty  of  representation.  /,  as  think- 
ing, am  an  object  of  the  internal  sense,  and  am  called  soul.  That 
which  is  an  object  of  the  external  senses  is  called  body.  The 
term  /,  as  a  thinking  being,  signifies  the  object  of  psychology, 
which  may  be  called  the  rational  science  of  the  soul,  supposing 
that  we  want  to  know  nothing  about  the  soul  except  what,  in- 
dependent of  all  experience  (which  determines  the  I  more  espe- 
cially and  in  concrete),  can  be  deduced  from  the  concept  of  I, 
so  far  as  it  is  present  in  every  act  of  thought.  .  .  . 

/  think  is,  therefore,  the  only  text  of  rational  psychology,  out 
of  which  it  must  evolve  all  its  wisdom.  It  is  easily  seen  that  this 
thought,  if  it  is  to  be  applied  to  any  object  (my  self),  cannot 
contain  any  but  transcendental  predicates,  because  the  smallest 
empirical  predicate  would  spoil  the  rational  purity  of  the  science, 
and  its  independence  of  all  experience. 

We  shall  therefore  follow  the  thread  of  the  categories,  with  this 
difference,  however,  that  as  here  the  first  thing  which  is  given 
is  a  thing,  the  I,  a  thinking  being,  we  must  begin  with  the  cate- 
gory of  substance,  by  which  a  thing  in  itself  is  represented,  and 
then  proceed  backwards,  though  without  changing  the  respective 
order  of  the  categories,  as  given  before  in  our  table.  The  topic 
of  the  rational  science  of  the  soul,  from  which  has  to  be  derived 
whatever  else  that  science  may  contain,  is  therefore  the  fol- 
lowing. 


428  KANT 

I 

The  Soul  is  substance. 
II  III 

As  regards  its  quality,  simple.          As  regards  the  different 

times  in  which  it  exists,  nu- 
merically identical,  that  is 
unity  (not  plurality). 
IV 

It  is  in  relation  to 
possible  objects  in  space. 

To  these  concepts  refer  four  paralogisms  of  a  transcendental 
psychology,  which  is  falsely  supposed  to  be  a  science  of  pure 
reason,  concerning  the  nature  of  our  thinking  being.  We  can, 
however,  use  as  the  foundation  of  such  a  science  nothing  but  the 
single,  and  in  itself  perfectly  empty,  representation  of  the  7, 
of  which  we  cannot  even  say  that  it  is  a  concept,  but  merely  a 
consciousness  that  accompanies  all  concepts.  By  this  /,  or  he, 
or  it  (the  thing),  which  thinks,  nothing  is  represented  beyond 
a  transcendental  subject  of  thoughts  =  x,  which  is  known  only 
through  the  thoughts  that  are  its  predicates,  and  of  which, 
apart  from  them,  we  can  never  have  the  slightest  concept,  so 
that  we  are  really  turning  round  it  in  a  perpetual  circle,  having 
already  to  use  its  representation,  before  we  can  form  any  judg- 
ment about  it.  And  this  inconvenience  is  really  inevitable,  be- 
cause consciousness  in  itself  is  not  so  much  a  representation, 
distinguishing  a  particular  object,  but  really  a  form  of  repre- 
sentation in  general,  in  so  far  as  it  is  to  be  called  knowledge,  of 
which  alone  I  can  say  that  I  think  something  by  it.  .  .'"'. 

As  the  proposition  I  think  (taken  problematically)  contains 
the  form  of  every  possible  judgment  of  the  understanding,  and 
accompanies  all  categories  as  their  vehicle,  it  must  be  clear  that 
the  conclusions  to  be  drawn  from  it  can  only  contain  a  tran- 
scendental use  of  the  understanding,  which  declines  all  admix- 
ture of  experience,  and  of  the  achievements  of  which,  after  what 
has  been  said  before,  we  cannot  form  any  very  favourable  an- 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON          429 

ticipations.    We  shall  therefore  follow  it,  with  a  critical  eye, 
through  all  the  predicaments  of  pure  psychology.1 

The  following  general  remark  may  at  the  very  outset  make  us 
more  attentive  to  this  mode  of  syllogism.  I  do  not  know  any 
object  by  merely  thinking,  but  only  by  determining  a  given  intui- 
tion with  respect  to  that  unity  of  consciousness  in  which  all  thought 
consists ;  therefore,  I  do  not  know  myself  by  being  conscious  of 
myself,  as  thinking,  but  only  if  I  am  conscious  of  the  intuition 
of  myself  as  determined  with  respect  to  the  function  of  thought. 
All  modes  of  self-consciousness  in  thought  are  therefore  by 
themselves  not  yet  concepts  of  understanding  of  objects  (cate- 
gories), but  mere  logical  functions,  which  present  no  object  to 
our  thought  to  be  known,  and  therefore  do  not  present  myself 
either  as  an  object.  It  is  not  a  consciousness  of  the  determining, 
but  only  that  of  the  determinable  self,  that  is,  of  my  internal  in- 
tuition (so  far  as  the  manifold  in  it  can  be  connected  in  accord- 
ance with  the  general  condition  of  the  unity  of  apperception  in 
thought)  which  forms  the  object. 

1.  In  all  judgments  I  am  always  the  determining  subject  only 
of  the  relation  which  constitutes  the  judgment.    That  I,  who 
think,  can  be  considered  in  thinking  as  subject  only,  and  as  some- 
thing not  simply  inherent  in  the  thinking,  as  predicate,  is  an 
apodictical  and  even  identical  proposition ;  but  it  does  not  mean 
that,  as  an  object,  I  am  a  self-dependent  being  or  a  substance.  The 
latter  would  be  saying  a  great  deal,  and  requires  for  its  support 
data  which  are  not  found  in  the  thinking,  perhaps  (so  far  as 
I  consider  only  the  thinking  subject  as  such)  more  than  I  shall 
ever  find  in  it. 

2.  That  the  Ego  of  apperception,  and  therefore  the  Ego  in 
every  act  of  thought,  is  a  singular  which  cannot  be  dissolved  into 
a  plurality  of  subjects,  and  that  it  therefore  signifies  a  logically 
simple  subject,  follows  from  the  very  concept  of  thinking,  and  is 
consequently  an  analytical  proposition.    But  this  does  not  mean 
that  a  thinking  Ego  is  a  simple  substance,  which  would  indeed  be 
a  synthetical  proposition.   The  concept  of  substance  always  re- 

1  All  that  follows,  to  the  beginning  of  the  second  chapter,  concerning  par- 
alogisms, is  taken  from  the  second  edition. 


430  KANT 

lates  to  intuitions  which,  with  me,  cannot  be  other  but  sensuous, 
and  which  therefore  lie  completely  outside  the  field  of  the  under- 
standing and  its  thinking,  which  alone  is  intended  here,  when 
we  say  that  the  Ego,  in  thinking,  is  simple.  It  would  indeed  be 
strange,  if  what  elsewhere  requires  so  great  an  effort,  namely,  to 
distinguish  in  what  is  given  by  intuition  what  is  substance,  and 
still  more,  whether  that  substance  can  be  simple  (as  in  the  case 
of  the  component  parts  of  matter),  should  in  our  case  be  given 
to  us  so  readily  in  what  is  really  the  poorest  of  all  representations, 
and,  as  it  were,  by  an  act  of  revelation. 

3.  The  proposition  of  the  identity  of  myself  amidst  the  mani- 
fold of  which  I  am  conscious,  likewise  follows  from  the  concepts 
themselves,  and  is  therefore  analytical;  but  the  identity  of  the 
subject  of  which,  in  all  its  representations,  I  may  become  con- 
scious, does  not  refer  to  the  intuition  by  which  it  is  given  as  an 
object,  and  cannot  therefore  signify  the  identity  of  the  person, 
by  which  is  understood  the  consciousness  of  the  identity  of  one's 
own  substance,  as  a  thinking  being,  in  all  the  changes  of  circum- 
stances.  In  order  to  prove  this,  the  mere  analysis  of  the  proposi- 
tion, I  think,  would  avail  nothing :  but  different  synthetical  judg- 
ments would  be  required,  which  are  based  on  the  given  intuition. 

4.  To  say  that  I  distinguish  my  own  existence,  as  that  of  a 
thinking  being,  from  other  things  outside  me  (one  of  them  being 
my  body)  is  likewise  an  analytical  proposition ;  for  other  things 
are  things  which  I  conceive  as  different  from  myself.  But,  whether 
such  a  consciousness  of  myself  is  even  possible  without  things 
outside  me,  whereby  representations  are  given  to  me,  and  whether 
I  could  exist  merely  as  a  thinking  being  (without  being  a  man), 
I  do  not  know  at  all  by  that  proposition. 

Nothing  therefore  is  gained  by  the  analysis  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  myself,  in  thought  in  general,  towards  the  knowledge  of 
myself  as  an  object.  The  logical  analysis  of  thinking  in  general 
is  simply  mistaken  for  a  metaphysical  determination  of  the 
object. 

In  this  process  of  rational  psychology,  there  lurks  a  paralogism 
which  may  be  represented  by  the  following  syllogism. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  431 

That  which  cannot  be  conceived  otherwise  than  as  a  subject, 
does  not  exist  otherwise  than  as  a  subject,  and  is  therefore  a 
substance. 

A  thinking  being,  considered  as  such,  cannot  be  conceived 
otherwise  than  as  a  subject. 

Therefore  it  exists  also  as  such  only,  that  is,  as  a  substance. 

In  the  major  they  speak  of  a  being  that  can  be  thought  in 
every  respect,  and  therefore  also  as  it  may  be  given  in  intuition. 
In  the  minor,  however,  they  speak  of  it  only  so  far  as  it  considers 
itself,  as  subject,  with  respect  to  the  thinking  and  the  unity  of 
consciousness  only,  but  not  at  the  same  time  in  respect  to  the 
intuition  whereby  this  unity  is  given  as  an  object  of  thinking. 
The  conclusion,  therefore,  has  been  drawn  by  a  sophism,  and 
more  particularly  by  sophisma  figurae  dictionis. 

There  is,  therefore,  no  rational  psychology,  as  a  doctrine, 
furnishing  any  addition  to  our  self-knowledge,  but  only  as  a 
discipline,  fixing  impassable  limits  to  speculative  reason  in  this 
field,  partly  to  keep  us  from  throwing  ourselves  into  the  arms 
of  a  soulless  materialism,  partly  to  warn  us  against  losing  our- 
selves in  a  vague,  and,  with  regard  to  practical  life,  baseless 
spiritualism.  It  reminds  us  at  the  same  time  to  look  upon  this 
refusal  of  our  reason  to  give  a  satisfactory  answer  to  such  curious 
questions,  which  reach  beyond  the  limits  of  this  life,  as  a  hint 
to  turn  our  self-knowledge  away  from  fruitless  speculations  to 
a  fruitful  practical  use  —  a  use  which,  though  directed  always 
to  objects  of  experience  only,  derives  its  principle  from  a  higher 
source,  and  so  regulates  our  conduct,  as  if  our  destination 
reached  far  beyond  experience,  and  therefore  far  beyond  this  life. 


CHAPTER    II.     THE    ANTINOMY    OF    PURE 
REASON 

The  second  class  of  the  dialectical  arguments  in  analogy  with 
the  hypothetical  syllogisms,  takes  for  its  object  the  unconditioned 
unity  of  the  objective  conditions  in  phenomenal  appearance.  .  .  . 


432  KANT 

It  is  remarkable,  however,  that  a  transcendental  paralogism 
caused  a  one-sided  illusion  only,  with  regard  to  our  idea  of  the 
subject  of  our  thought ;  and  that  it  is  impossible  to  find  in  mere 
concepts  of  reason  the  slightest  excuse  for  maintaining  the  con- 
trary. .  .  .  The  case  is  totally  different  when  we  apply  reason  to 
the  objective  synthesis  of  phenomena ;  here  reason  tries  at  first, 
with  great  plausibility,  to  establish  its  principle  of.  unconditioned 
unity,  but  becomes  soon  entangled  in  so  many  contradictions, 
that  it  must  give  up  its  pretensions  with  regard  to  cosmology  also. 
For  here  we  are  met  by  a  new  phenomenon  in  human  reason, 
namely,  a  perfectly  natural  Antithetic,  which  is  not  produced 
by  any  artificial  efforts,  but  into  which  reason  falls  by  itself,  and 
inevitably.  ...  As  therefore  the  paralogisms  of  pure  reason 
formed  the  foundation  for  a  dialectical  psychology,  the  antinomy 
of  pure  reason  will  place  before  our  eyes  the  transcendental 
principles  of  a  pretended  pure  (rational)  cosmology,  not  in 
order  to  show  that  it  is  valid  and  can  be  accepted,  but,  as  may  be 
guessed  from  the  very  name  of  the  antinomy  of  reason,  in  order 
to  expose  it  as  an  idea  surrounded  by  deceptive  and  false  appear- 
ances, and  utterly  irreconcilable  with  phenomena. 

SECTION  I.  SYSTEM  OF  COSMOLOGICAL  IDEAS 

Before  we  are  able  to  enumerate  these  ideas  according  to  a 
principle  and  with  systematic  precision,  we  must  bear  in  mind, 

ist,  That  pure  and  transcendental  concepts  arise  from  the 
understanding  only,  and  that  reason  does  not  in  reality  pro- 
duce any  concept,  but  only  frees,  it  may  be,  the  concept  of  the 
understanding  of  the  inevitable  limitation  of  a  possible  experi- 
ence, and  thus  tries  to  enlarge  it,  beyond  the  limits  of  experience, 
yet  in  connection  with  it.  Reason  does  this  by  demanding  for 
something  that  is  given  as  conditioned,  absolute  totality  on  the 
side  of  the  conditions  (under  which  the  understanding  subjects 
all  phenomena  to  the  synthetical  unity).  It  thus  changes  the 
category  into  a  transcendental  idea,  in  order  to  give  absolute 
completeness  to  the  empirical  synthesis,  by  continuing  it  up  to 
the  unconditioned  (which  can  never  be  met  with  in  experience, 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  433 

but  in  the  idea  only).  In  doing  this,  reason  follows  the  principle 
that,  if  the  conditioned  is  given,  the  whole  sum  of  conditions,  and 
therefore  the  absolutely  unconditioned  must  be  given  likewise,  the 
former  being  impossible  without  the  latter.  Hence  the  tran- 
scendental ideas  are  in  reality  nothing  but  categories,  enlarged 
till  they  reach  the  unconditioned,  and  those  ideas  must  admit 
of  being  arranged  in  a  table,  according  to  the  titles  of  the  cate- 
gories. 

2ndly,  Not  all  categories  will  lend  themselves  to  this,  but 
those  only  in  which  the  synthesis  constitutes  a  series,  and  a  series 
of  subordinated  (not  of  co-ordinated)  conditions.  Absolute  total- 
ity is  demanded  by  reason,  with  regard  to  an  ascending  series 
of  conditions  only,  not  therefore  when  we  have  to  deal  with 
a  descending  line  of  consequences,  or  with  an  aggregate  of 
co-ordinated  conditions. 

I  shall  call  the  synthesis  of  a  series  on  the  side  of  the  conditions, 
beginning  with  the  one  nearest  to  a  given  phenomenon,  and 
advancing  to  the  more  remote  conditions,  regressive;  the  other, 
which  on  the  side  of  the  conditioned  advances  from  the  nearest 
effect  to  the  more  remote  ones,  progressive.  The  former  pro- 
ceeds in  antecedentia,  the  second  in  consequentia.  Cosmological 
ideas  therefore,  being  occupied  with  the  totality  of  regressive 
synthesis,  proceed  in  antecedentia,  not  in  consequentia.  If  the 
latter  should  take  place,  it  would  be  a  gratuitous,  not  a  neces- 
sary problem  of  pure  reason,  because  for  a  complete  compre- 
hension of  what  is  given  us  in  experience  we  want  to  know  the 
causes,  but  not  the  effects. 

If  therefore  we  select  those  categories  which  necessarily  imply 
a  series  in  the  synthesis  of  the  manifold,  we  shall  have  no  more 
than  four  cosmological  ideas,  according  to  the  four  titles  of  the 
categories. 


Absolute  completeness 

of  the  composition 
of  the  given  whole  of  all  phenomena. 


434  KANT 

II  III 

Absolute  completeness  Absolute  completeness 

of  the  division  of  the  origination 

of  a  given  whole  of  a  phenomenon 

in  phenomenal  appearance.  in  general. 

IV 

Absolute  completeness 

of  the  dependence  of  the  existence 

of  the  changeable  in  phenomenal  appearance. 


SECTION  II.   ANTITHETIC  OF  PURE  REASON 

If  every  collection  of  dogmatical  doctrines  is  called  Thetic, 
I  may  denote  by  Antithetic,  not  indeed  dogmatical  assertions 
of  the  opposite,  but  the  conflict  between  different  kinds  of  ap- 
parently dogmatical  knowledge  (thesis  cum  antithesi),  to  none 
of  which  we  can  ascribe  a  superior  claim  to  our  assent.  This 
antithetic,  therefore,  has  nothing  to  do  with  one-sided  assertions, 
but  considers  general  knowledge  of  reason  with  reference  to  the 
conflict  only  that  goes  on  in  it,  and  its  causes.  The  transcenden- 
tal antithetic  is  in  fact  an  investigation  of  the  antinomy  of  pure 
reason,  its  causes  and  its  results.  If  we  apply  our  reason,  not 
only  to  objects  of  experience,  in  order  to  make  use  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  understanding,  but  venture  to  extend  it  beyond  the 
limit  of  experience,  there  arise  rationalising  or  sophistical  propo- 
sitions, which  can  neither  hope  for  confirmation  nor  need  fear 
refutation  from  experience.  Every  one  of  them  is  not  only  in 
itself  free  from  contradiction,  but  can  point  to  conditions  of  its 
necessity  in  the  nature  of  reason  itself,  only  that,  unfortunately, 
its  opposite  can  produce  equally  valid  and  necessary  grounds 
for  its  support. 

The  antinomies*  follow  in  the  order  of  the  transcendental 
ideas  as  given  above. 

*  The  "  Observations  "  on  them  by  Kant  have  been  omitted. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON           435 

The  Antinomy  of  Pure  Reason. 

'      FIRST   CONFLICT   OF   THE  TRANSCENDENTAL    IDEAS 

THESIS  ANTITHESIS 

The  world  has  a  beginning  The  world  has  no  beginning 

in  time,  and  is  limited  also  with  and  no  limits  in  space,  but  is 

regard  to  space.  infinite,  in  respect  both  to  time 

'and  space. 

Proof.  Proof. 

For  if  we  assumed  that  the  For  let  us  assume  that  it  has 

world    had    no    beginning    in  a  beginning.    Then,  as  begin- 

time,    then    an   eternity   must  ning  is  an  existence  which  is 

have  elapsed  up  to  every  given  preceded  by  a  time  in  which 

point  of  time,  and  therefore  an  the  thing  is  not,  it  would  fol- 

infinite  series  of  successive  states  low  that  antecedently  there  was 

of  things  must  have  passed  in  a  time  in  which  the  world  was 

the  world.    The  infinity  of  a  not,  that  is,  an  empty  time.    In 

series,  however,  consists  in  this,  an    empty    time,    however,   it 

that  it  never  can  be  completed  is    impossible     that     anything 

by  means  of  a  successive  syn-  should  take  its  beginning,  be- 

thesis.    Hence  an  infinite  past  cause  of  such  a  time  no  part 

series  of  worlds  is  impossible,  possesses  any  condition  as  to 

and  the  beginning  of  the  world  existence   rather  than  non-ex- 

a   necessary    condition    of   its  istence,  which  condition  could 

existence.    This  was  what  had  distinguish  that  part  from  any 

to  be  proved  first.  other   (whether    produced    by 

With  regard  to  the  second,  itself     or      through      another 

let  us  assume  again  the  oppo-  cause).  Hence,  though  many  a 

site.    In  that   case  the   world  series  of  things  may  take  its  be- 

would  be  given  as  an  infinite  ginning  in  the  world,  the  world 

whole    of    co-existing    things,  itself   can  have  no  beginning, 

Now  we  cannot  conceive  in  any  and  in  reference  to  time  past  is 

way  the  extension  of  a  quan-  infinite. 

turn,  which  is  not  given  within  With  regard  to  the  second, 

certain  limits  to  every  intuition,  let  us  assume  again  the  oppo- 

except  through  the  synthesis  of  site,  namely,  that  the  world  is 


436  KANT 

its  parts,  nor  the  totality  of  such  finite  and  limited  in  space.  In 
a  quantum  in  any  way,  except  that  case  the  world  would  ex- 
through  a  completed  synthesis,  ist  in  an  empty  space  without 
or  by  the  repeated  addition  of  limits.  We  should  therefore 
unity  to  itself.  In  order  there-  have  not  only  a  relation  of  things 
fore  to  conceive  the  world,  in  space,  but  also  of  things  to 
which  fills  all  space,  as  a  whole,  space.  As  however  the  world  is 
the  successive  synthesis  of  the  an  absolute  whole,  outside  of 
parts  of  an  infinite  world  would  which  no  object  of  intuition, 
have  to  be  looked  upon  as  com-  and  therefore  no  correlate  of 
pleted;  that  is,  an  infinite  time  the  world  can  be  found,  the 
would  have  to  be  looked  upon  relation  of  the  world  to  empty 
as  elapsed,  during  the  enumera-  space  would  be  a  relation  to 
tion  of  all  co-existing  things,  no  object.  Such  a  relation,  and 
This  is  impossible.  Hence  an  with  it  the  limitation  of  the 
infinite  aggregate  of  real  things  world  by  empty  space,  is  no- 
cannot  be  regarded  as  a  given  thing,  and  therefore  the  world 
whole,  nor,  therefore,  as  given  is  not  limited  with  regard  to 
at  the  same  time.  Hence  it  space,  that  is,  it  is  unlimited 
follows  that  the  world  is  not  in  extension, 
infinite,  as  regards  extension  in 
space,  but  enclosed  in  limits. 
This  was  the  second  that  had 
to  be  proved. 

SECOND  CONFLICT   OF  THE  TRANSCENDENTAL   IDEAS 

THESIS  ANTITHESIS 

Every  compound  substance  No  compound  thing  in  the 

in  the  world  consists  of  simple  world  consists  of  simple  parts, 

parts,  and  nothing  exists  any-  and  there  exists  nowhere  in  the 

where  but  the  simple,  or  what  world  anything  simple, 
is  composed  of  it. 

Proof,  Proof. 
For  let  us  assume  that  com-  Assume    that    a    compound 
pound  substances  did  not  con-  thing,  a  substance,  consists  of 
sist  of  simple   parts,  then,  if  simple  parts.    Then  as  all  ex- 
all  composition  is  removed  in  ternal  relation,   and  therefore 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON           437 

thought,  there  would  be  no  all  composition  of  substances 
compound  part,  and  (as  no  also,  is  possible  in  space  only, 
simple  parts  are  admitted)  no  it  follows  that  space  must  con- 
simple  part  either,  that  is,  there  sist  of  as  many  parts  as  the  parts 
would  remain  nothing,  and  of  the  compound  that  occupies 
there  would  therefore  be  no  the  space.  Space,  however, 
substance  at  all.  Either,  there-  does  not  consist  of  simple  parts, 
fore,  it  is  impossible  to  remove  but  of  spaces.  Every  part  of  a 
all  composition  in  thought,  or,  compound,  therefore,  must  oc- 
after  its  removal,  there  must  cupy  a  space.  Now  the  abso- 
remain  something  that  exists  lutely  primary  parts  of  every 
without  composition,  that  is  compound  are  simple.  It  fol- 
the  simple.  In  the  former  case  lows  therefore  that  the  simple 
the  compound  could  not  itself  occupies  a  space.  But  as  e very- 
consist  of  substances  (because  thing  real,  which  occupies  a 
with  them  composition  is  only  space,"  contains  a  manifold,  the 
an  accidental  relation  of  sub-  parts  of  which  are  by  the  side 
stances,  which,  as  permanent  of  each  other,  and  which  there- 
beings,  must  subsist  without  it),  fore  is  compounded,  and,  as  a 
As  this  contradicts  the  suppo-  real  compound,  compounded 
sition,  there  remains  only  the  not  of  accidents  (for  these  could 
second  view,  that  the  substan-  not  exist  by  the  side  of  each 
tial  compounds  in  the  world  other,  without  a  substance), 
consist  of  simple  parts.  but  of  substances,  it  would  fol- 
It  follows  as  an  immediate  low  that  the  simple  is  a  sub- 
consequence  that  all  the  things  stantial  compound,  which  is 
in  the  world  are  simple  beings,  self-contradictory. 

that  their  composition  is  only 

an  external  condition,  and  that, 
though  we  are  unable  to  re- 
move these  elementary  sub- 
stances from  their  state  of  com- 
position and  isolate  them,  rea- 
son must  conceive  them  as  the 
first  subjects  of  all  composition, 
and  therefore,  antecedently  to 
it,  as  simple  beings. 


438  KANT 

THIRD    CONFLICT    OF    THE   TRANSCENDENTAL    IDEAS 

THESIS  ANTITHESIS 

Causality,   according  to  the  There   is   no   freedom,    but 

laws  of  nature,  is  not  the  only  everything  in  the  world  takes 

causality   from   which   all   the  place  entirely  according  to  the 

phenomena  of  the  world  can  be  laws  of  nature, 
deduced.    In  order  to  account 
for  these  phenomena  it  is  ne- 
cessary also  to  admit  another 
causality,  that  of  freedom. 

Proof.  Proof. 

Let  us  assume  that  there  is  no  If   we   admit   that   there   is 

other  causality  but  that  accord-  freedom,  in  the  transcendental 

ing  to  the  laws  of  nature.    In  sense,  as  a  particular  kind  of 

that  case  everything  that  takes  causality,   according  to  which 

place,  presupposes  an  anterior  the  events  in  the  world  could 

state,  on  which  it  follows  in-  take  place,  that  is  a  faculty  of 

evitably   according  to   a  rule,  absolutely  originating  a  state, 

But  that   anterior  state  must  and  with  it  a  series  of  conse- 

itself  be  something  which  has  quences,  it  would  follow  that 

taken  place  (which  has  come  to  not  only  a  series  would  have  its 

be  in  time,  and  did  not  exist  be-  absolute  beginning  through  this 

fore),  because,  if  it  had  always  spontaneity,   but  the  determi- 

existed,  its  effect  too  would  not  nation  of  that  spontaneity  itself 

have  only  just  arisen,  but  have  to  produce  the  series,  that  is, 

existed  always.   The  causality,  the  causality,   would   have   an 

therefore,  of  a  cause,  through  absolute  beginning,  nothing  pre- 

which  something  takes  place,  ceding  it  by  which  this  act  is 

is  itself  an  event,  which  again,  determined   according  to  per- 

according  to  the  law  of  nature,  manent  laws.   Every  beginning 

presupposes  an   anterior  state  of   an    act,    however,    presup- 

and  its  causality,  and  this  again  poses  a  state  in  which  the  cause 

an  anterior  state,  and  so  on.  If,  is  not  yet  active,  and  a  dynami- 

therefore,  everything  takes  place  cally  primary  beginning  of  an 

according  to  mere  laws  of  na-  act  presupposes  a  state  which 

ture,   there  will   always  be   a  has  no  causal  connection  with 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  439 

secondary  only,  but  never  a  the  preceding  state  of  that 
primary  beginning,  and  there-  cause,  that  is,  in  no  wise  follows 
fore  no  completeness  of  the  from  it.  Transcendental  free- 
series,  on  the  side  of  successive  dom  is  therefore  opposed  to  the 
causes.  But  the  law  of  nature  law  of  causality,  and  represents 
consists  in  this,  that  nothing  such  a  connection  of  successive 
takes  place  without  a  cause  states  of  effective  causes,  that 
sufficiently  determined  a  priori,  no  unity  of  experience  is  pos- 
Therefore  the  proposition,  that  sible  with  it.  It  is  therefore  an 
all  causality  is  possible  accord-  empty  fiction  of  the  mind,  and 
ing  to  the  laws  of  nature  only,  not  to  be  met  with  in  any  expe- 
contradicts  itself,  if  taken  in  rience. 

unlimited  generality,  and  it  is  We  have,  therefore,  nothing 
impossible,  therefore,  to  admit  but  nature,  in  which  we  must 
that  causality  as  the  only  one.  try  to  find  the  connection  and 
We  must  therefore  admit  an-  order  of  cosmical  events.  Free- 
other  causality,  through  which  dom  (independence)  from  the 
something  takes  place,  without  laws  of  nature  is  no  doubt  a 
its  cause  being  further  deter-  deliverance  from  restraint,  but 
mined  according  to  necessary  also  from  the  guidance  of  all 
laws  by  a  preceding  cause,  that  rules.  For  we  cannot-  say  that, 
is,  an  absolute  spontaneity  of  instead  of  the  laws  of  nature, 
causes,  by  which  a  series  of  laws  of  freedom  may  enter  into 
phenomena,  proceeding  accord-  the  causality  of  the  course  of 
ing  to  natural  laws,  begins  by  the  world,  because,  if  deter- 
itself ;  we  must  consequently  mined  by  laws,  it  would  not  be 
admit  transcendental  freedom,  freedom,  but  nothing  else  but 
without  which,  even  in  the  nature.  Nature,  therefore,  and 
course  of  nature,  the  series  of  transcendental  freedom  differ 
phenomena  on  the  side  of  from  each  other  like  legality 
causes,  can  never  be  perfect.  and  lawlessness.  .  .  . 


FOURTH   CONFLICT   OF  THE   TRANSCENDENTAL   IDEAS 

THESIS  ANTITHESIS 

There   exists   an   absolutely       There  nowhere  exists  an  ab- 
necessary   Being  belonging  to   solutely  necessary  Being,  either 


440  KANT 

the  world,  either  as  a  part  or  as   within  or  without  the  world,  as 
a  cause  of  it.  the  cause  of  it. 


Proof.  Proof. 

The  world  of  sense,  as  the  If  we  supposed  that  the  world 
sum  total  of  all  phenomena,  itself  is  a  necessary  being,  or 
contains  a  series  of  changes  that  a  necessary  being  exists  in 
without  which  even  the  repre-  it,  there  would  then  be  in  the 
sentation  of  a  series  of  time,  series  of  changes  either  a  be- 
which  forms  the  condition  of  ginning,  unconditionally  neces- 
the  possibility  of  the  world  of  sary,  and  therefore  without  a 
sense,  would  not  be  given  us.  cause,  which  contradicts  the 
But  every  change  has  its  condi-  dynamical  law  of  the  deter- 
tion  which  precedes  it  in  time,  mination  of  all  phenomena  in 
and  renders  it  necessary.  Now,  time ;  or  the  series  itself  would 
everything  that  is  given  as  be  without  any  beginning,  and 
conditional  presupposes,  with  though  contingent  and  condi- 
regard  to  its  existence,  a  com-  tioned  in  all  its  parts,  yet  en- 
plete  series  of  conditions,  lead-  tirely  necessary  and  uncondi- 
ing  up  to  that  which  is  entirely  tioned  as  a  whole.  This  would 
unconditioned,  and  alone  ab-  be  self-contradictory,  because 
solutely  necessary.  Something  the  existence  of  a  multitude 
absolutely  necessary  therefore  cannot  be  necessary,  if  no  single 
must  exist,  if  there  exists  a  part  of  it  possesses  necessary 
change  as  its  consequence.  And  existence, 
this  absolutely  necessary  be-  If  we  supposed,  on  the  con- 
longs  itself  to  the  world  of  trary,  that  there  exists  an  ab- 
sense.  For  if  we  supposed  that  solutely  necessary  cause  of  the 
it  existed  outside  that  world,  world,  outside  the  world,  then 
then  the  series  of  changes  in  the  that  cause,  as  the  highest  mem- 
world  would  derive  its  origin  ber  in  the  series  of  causes  of 
from  it,  while  the  necessary  cosmical  changes,  would  begin 
cause  itself  would  not  belong  to  the  existence  of  the  latter  and 
the  world  of  sense.  But  this  is  their  series.  In  that  case,  how- 
impossible.  For  as  the  begin-  ever,  that  cause  would  have  to 
ning  of  a  temporal  series  can  be  begin  to  act,  and  its  causality 
determined  only  by  that  which  would  belong  to  time,  and 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON          441 

precedes  it  in  time,  it  follows  therefore  to  the  sum  total  of 
that  the  highest  condition  of  the  phenomena.    It  would  belong 
beginning  of  a  series  of  changes  to  the  world,  and  would  there- 
must  exist  in  the  time  when  that  fore  not  be  outside  the  world, 
series  was  not  yet  (because  the  which  is  contrary  to  our  sup- 
beginning  is  an  existence,  pre-  position.   Therefore,  neither  in 
ceded  by  a  time  in  which  the  the    world,    nor    outside    the 
thing  which  begins  was  not  yet),  world  (yet  in  causal  connection 
Hence  the  causality  of  the  neces-  with  it),  does  there  exist  any- 
sary  cause  of  changes  and  that  where  an  absolutely  necessary 
cause  itself  belong  to  time  and  Being, 
therefore    to    phenomena    (in 
which  alone  time,  as  their  form, 
is  possible),  and  it  cannot  there- 
fore be  conceived  as  separated 
from  the  world  of  sense,  as  the 
sum  total  of  all  phenomena. 
It  follows,  therefore,  that  some- 
thing  absolutely   necessary   is 
contained  in  the  world,  whether 
it  be  the  whole  cosmical  series 
itself,  or  only  a  part  of  it. 

SECTION  VII.  CRITICAL  SOLUTION  OF  THE  COSMOLOGICAL 
CONFLICT  OF  REASON 

The  whole  antinomy  of  pure  reason  rests  on  the  dialectical 
argument  that,  if  the  conditioned  is  given,  the  whole  series  of 
conditions  also  is  given.  As  therefore  the  objects  of  the  senses 
are  given  us  as  conditioned,  it  follows,  etc.  Through  this  argu- 
ment, the  major  of  which  seems  so  natural  and  self-evident, 
cosmological  ideas  have  been  introduced  corresponding  in  num- 
ber to  the  difference  of  conditions  (in  the  synthesis  of  phenomena) 
which  constitute  a  series.  These  cosmological  ideas  postulate  the 
absolute  totality  of  those  series,  and  thus  place  reason  in  inevi- 
table contradiction  with  itself.  .  .  . 

If  we  regard  the  two  statements  that  the  world  is  infinite  in 


442  KANT 

extension,  and  that  the  world  is  finite  in  extension,  as  contra- 
dictory opposites,  we  assume  that  the  world  (the  whole  series  of 
phenomena)  is  a  thing  by  itself ;  for  it  remains,  whether  I  remove 
the  infinite  or  the  finite  regressus  in  the  series  of  its  phenomena. 
But  if  we  remove  this  supposition,  or  this  transcendental  illusion, 
and  deny  that  it  is  a  thing  by  itself,  then  the  contradictory  oppo- 
sition of  the  two  statements  becomes  purely  dialectical,  and  as 
the  world  does  not  exist  by  itself  (independently  of  the  regressive 
series  of  my  representations),  it  exists  neither  as  a  whole  by 
itself  infinite,  nor  as  a  whole  by  itself  finite.  It  exists  only  in  the 
empirical  regressus  in  the  series  of  phenomena,  and  nowhere 
by  itself.  Hence,  if  that  series  is  always  conditioned,  it  can  never 
exist  as  complete,  and  the  world  is  therefore  not  an  uncondi- 
tioned whole,  and  does  not  exist  as  such,  either  with  infinite  or 
finite  extension. 

The  antinomy  of  pure  reason  with  regard  to  its  cosmological 
ideas  is  therefore  removed  by  showing  that  it  is  dialectical  only, 
and  a  conflict  of  an  illusion  produced  by  our  applying  the  idea 
of  absolute  totality,  which  exists  only  as  a  condition  of  things  by 
themselves,  to  phenomena,  which  exist  in  our  representation 
only,  and  if  they  form  a  series,  in  the  successive  regressus,  but 
nowhere  else.  We  may,  however,  on  the  other  side,  derive  from 
that  antinomy  a  true,  if  not  dogmatical,  at  least  critical  and 
doctrinal  advantage,  namely,  by  proving  through  it  indirectly  the 
transcendental  ideality  of  phenomena,  in  case  anybody  should 
not  have  been  satisfied  by  the  direct  proof  given  in  the  tran- 
scendental ^Esthetic.  The  proof  would  consist  in  the  following 
dilemma.  If  the  world  is  a  whole  existing  by  itself,  it  is  either 
finite  or  infinite.  Now  the  former  as  well  as  the  latter  proposition 
is  false,  as  has  been  shown  by  the  proofs  given  in  the  antithesis 
on  one  and  in  the  thesis  on  the  other  side.  It  is  false,  therefore, 
that  the  world  (the  sum  total  of  all  phenomena)  is  a  whole  exist- 
ing by  itself.  Hence  it  follows  that  phenomena  in  general  are 
nothing  outside  our  representations,  which  was  what  we  meant 
by  their  transcendental  ideality. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  443 

SECTION  VIII.  THE  REGULATIVE  PRINCIPLE  OF  PURE  REASON 

IN  THE   COSMOLOGICAL   IDEAS 

As  through  the  cosmological  principle  of  totality  no  real 
maximum  is  given  of  the  series  of  conditions  in  the  world  of 
sense,  as  a  thing  by  itself,  but  can  only  be  required  in  the  re- 
gressus  of  that  series,  that  principle  of  pure  reason,  if  thus 
amended,  still  retains  its  validity,  not  indeed  as  an  axiom,  re- 
quiring us  to  think  the  totality  in  the  object  as  real,  but  as  a 
problem  for  the  understanding,  and  therefore  for  the  subject, 
encouraging  us  to  undertake  and  to  continue,  according  to  the 
completeness  in  the  idea,  the  regressus  in  the  series  of  conditions 
of  anything  given  as  conditioned.  In  our  sensibility,  that  is,  in 
space  and  time,  every  condition  which  we  can  reach  in  examin- 
ing given  phenomena  is  again  conditioned,  because  these  phe- 
nomena are  not  objects  by  themselves,  in  which  something 
absolutely  unconditioned  might  possibly  exist,  but  empirical 
representations  only,  which  always  must  have  their  condition  in 
intuition,  whereby  they  are  determined  in  space  and  time.  The 
principle  of  reason  is  therefore  properly  a  rule  only,  which  in 
the  series  of  conditions  of  given  phenomena  postulates  a  re- 
gressus which  is  never  allowed  to  stop  at  anything  absolutely 
unconditioned.  It  is  therefore  no  principle  of  the  possibility  of 
experience  and  of  the  empirical  knowledge  of  the  objects  of  the 
senses,  and  not  therefore  a  principle  of  the  understanding,  be- 
cause every  experience  is  (according  to  a  given  intuition)  within 
its  limits ;  nor  is  it  a  constitutive  principle  of  reason,  enabling  us 
to  extend  the  concept  of  the  world  of  sense  beyond  all  possible 
experience,  but  it  is  merely  a  principle  of  the  greatest  possible 
continuation  and  extension  of  our  experience,  allowing  no  em- 
pirical limit  to  be  taken  as  an  absolute  limit.  It  is  therefore  a 
principle  of  reason,  which,  as  a  rule,  postulates  what  we  ought 
to  do  in  the  regressus,  but  does  not  anticipate  what  may  be 
given  in  the  object,  before  such  regressus.  I  therefore  call  it  a 
regulative  principle  of  reason,  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  absolute  totality  of  the  series  of  conditions,  as  given 
in  the  object  (the  pheitemena)  by  itself,  would  be  a  constitutive 


444  KANT 

cosmological  principle,  the  hollowness  of  which  I  have  tried  to 
indicate  by  this  very  distinction,  thus  preventing  what  otherwise 
would  have  inevitably  happened  (through  a  transcendental  sur- 
reptitious proceeding),  namely,  an  idea,  which  is  to  serve  as  a 
rule  only,  being  invested  with  objective  reality. 

SECTION  IX.   EMPIRICAL  USE  OF  THE  REGULATIVE  PRINCIPLE 

OF  REASON 

No  transcendental  use,  as  we  have  shown  on  several  occasions, 
can  be  made  of  the  concepts  either  of  the  understanding  or  of 
reason;  and  the  absolute  totality  of  the  series  of  conditions  in 
the  world  of  sense  is  due  entirely  to  a  transcendental  use  of 
reason,  which  demands  this  unconditioned  completeness  from 
what  presupposes  as  a  thing  by  itself.  As  no  such  thing  is  con- 
tained in  the  world  of  sense,  we  can  never  speak  again  of  the 
absolute  quantity  of  different  series  in  it,  whether  they  be  limited 
or  in  themselves  unlimited;  but  the  question  can  only  be,  how 
far,  in  the  empirical  regressus,  we  may  go  back  in  tracing  ex- 
perience to  its  conditions,  in  order  to  stop,  according  to  the  rule 
of  reason,  at  no  other  answer  of  its  questions,  but  such  as  is  in 
accordance  with  the  object. 

What  therefore  remains  to  us  is  only  the  'validity  oj  the  prin- 
ciple of  reason,  as  a  rule  for  the  continuation  and  for  the  extent 
of  a  possible  experience,  after  its  invalidity,  as  a  constitutive 
principle  of  things  by  themselves,  has  been  sufficiently  estab- 
lished. If  we  have  clearly  established  that  invalidity,  the  con- 
flict of  reason  with  itself  will  be  entirely  finished,  because  not 
only  has  the  illusion  which  led  to  that  conflict  been  removed 
through  critical  analysis,  but  in  its  place  the  sense  in  which 
reason  agrees  with  itself,  and  the  misapprehension  of  which'  was 
the  only  cause  of  conflict,  has  been  clearly  exhibited,  and  a  prin- 
ciple formerly  dialectical  changed  into  a  doctrinal  one.  In  -fact, 
if  that  principle,  according  to  its  subjective  meaning,  can  be 
proved  fit  to  determine  the  greatest  possible  use  of  the  under- 
standing in  experience,  as  adequate  to  its  objects,  this  would  be 
the  same  as  if  it  determined,  as  an  axiom  (which  is  impossible 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  445 

from  pure  reason),  the  objects  themselves  a  priori  :  for  this  also 
could  not,  with  reference  to  the  objects  of  experience,  exercise 
a  greater  influence  on  the  extension  and  correction  of  our  know- 
ledge, than  proving  itself  efficient  in  the  most  extensive  use  of 
our  understanding,  as  applied  to  experience.  .  .  . 

Concluding  Remark  on  the  Whole  Antinomy  of  Pure  Reason. 

So  long  as  it  is  only  the  totality  of  the  conditions  in  the  world  of 
sense  and  the  interest  it  can  have  to  reason,  that  form  the  object 
of  the  concepts  of  our  reason,  our  ideas  are  no  doubt  transcen- 
dental, but  yet  cosmological.  If,  however,  we  place  the  uncon- 
ditioned (with  which  we  are  chiefly  concerned)  in  that  which  is 
entirely  outside  the  world  of  sense,  therefore  beyond  all  possible 
experience,  our  ideas  become  transcendent:  for  they  serve  not 
only  for  the  completion  of  the  empirical  use  of  the  understanding 
(which  always  remains  an  idea  that  must  be  obeyed,  though  it 
can  never  be  fully  carried  out),  but  they  separate  themselves 
entirely  from  it,  and  create  to  themselves  objects  the  material 
of  which  is  not  taken  from  experience,  and  the  objective  reality 
of  which  does  not  rest  on  the  completion  of  the  empirical  series, 
but  on  pure  concepts  a  priori.  Such  transcendent  ideas  have 
a  merely  intelligible  object,  which  may  indeed  be  admitted  as  a 
transcendental  object,  of  which,  for  the  rest,  we  know  nothing, 
but  for  which,  if  we  wish  to  conceive  it  as  a  thing  determined  by 
its  internal  distinguishing  predicates,  we  have  neither  grounds 
of  possibility  (as  independent  of  all  concepts  of  experience)  nor 
the  slightest  justification  on  our  side  in  admitting  it  as  an  object, 
and  which,  therefore,  is  a  mere  creation  of  our  thoughts.  Never- 
theless that  cosmological  idea,  which  owes  its  origin  to  the  fourth 
antinomy,  urges  us  on  to  take  that  step.  For  the  conditioned 
existence  of  all  phenomena,  not  being  founded  in  itself,  requires 
us  to  look  out  for  something  different  from  all  phenomena,  that 
is,  for  an  intelligible  object  in  which  there  should  be  no  more 
contingency.  As,  however,  if  we  have  once  allowed  ourselves 
to  admit,  outside  the  field  of  the  whole  of  sensibility,  a  reality 
existing  by  itself,  phenomena  can  only  be  considered  as  con- 
tingent modes  of  representing  intelligible  objects  on  the  part 


446  KANT 

•  of  beings  which  themselves  are  intelligences,  nothing  remains 
to  us,  in  order  to  form  some  kind  of  concept  of  intelligible  things, 
of  which  in  themselves  we  have  not  the  slightest  knowledge,  but 
analogy,  applied  to  the  concepts  of  experience.  As  we  know  the 
contingent  by  experience  only,  but  have  here  to  deal  with  things 
which  are  not  meant  to  be  objects  of  experience,  we  shall  have 
to  derive  our  knowledge  of  them  from  what  is  necessary  in  itself, 
that  is,  from  pure  concepts  of  things  in  general.  Thus  the  first 
step  which  we  take  outside  the  world  of  sense,  obliges  us  to  be- 
gin our  new  knowledge  with  the  investigation  of  the  absolutely 
necessary  Being,  and  to  derive  from  its  concepts  the  concepts 
of  all  things,  so  far  as  they  are  intelligible  only ;  and  this  we  shall 
attempt  to  do  in  the  next  chapter. 

CHAPTER    III.     THE    IDEAL    OF    PURE    REASON 
SECTION  I.   THE  IDEAL  IN  GENERAL 

We  have  seen  that  without  the  conditions  of  sensibility,  it  is 
impossible  to  represent  objects  by  means  of  the  pure  concepts 
of  the  understanding,  because  the  conditions  of  their  objective 
reality  are  absent,  and  they  contain  the  mere  form  of  thought 
only.  If,  however,  we  apply  these  concepts  to  phenomena,  they 
can  be  represented  in  concrete,  because  in  the  phenomena  they 
have  the  material  for  forming  concepts  of  experience,  which  are 
nothing  but  concepts  of  the  understanding  in  concreto.  Ideas, 
however,  are  still  further  removed  from  objective  reality  than 
the  categories,  because  they  can  meet  with  no  phenomenon  in 
which  they  could  be  represented  in  concreto.  They  contain  a 
certain  completeness  unattainable  by  any  possible  empirical 
knowledge,  and  reason  aims  in  them  at  a  systematical  unity 
only,  to  which  the  empirically  possible  unity  is  to  approximate, 
without  ever  fully  reaching  it. 

Still  further  removed  from  objective  reality  than  the  Idea, 
would  seem  to  be  what  I  call  the  Ideal,  by  which  I  mean  the  idea, 
not  only  in  concreto,  but  in  individuo,  that  is,  an  individual  thing 
determinable  or  even  determined  by  the  idea  alone. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  447 

In  its  ideal,  on  the  contrary,  reason  aims  at  a  perfect  deter- 
mination, according  to  rules  a  priori,  and  it  conceives  an  object 
throughout  determinable  according  to  principles,  though  without 
the  sufficient  conditions  of  experience,  so  that  the  concept  itself 
is  transcendent. 

SECTION  II.   THE  TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEAL 


The  ideal  of  which  we  are  speaking  is  founded  on  a  natural, 
not  on  a  purely  arbitrary  idea.  I  ask,  therefore,  how  does  it  hap- 
pen that  reason  considers  all  the  possibility  of  things  as  derived 
from  one  fundamental  possibility,  namely,  that  of  the  highest 
reality,  and  then  presupposes  it  as  contained  in  a  particular 
original  being?  The  answer  is  easily  found  in  the  discussions 
of  the  transcendental  Analytic.  The  possibility  of  the  objects  of 
our  senses  is  their  relation  to  our  thought,  by  which  something 
(namely,  the  empirical  form)  can  be  thought  a  priori,  while  what 
constitutes  the  matter,  the  reality  in  the  phenomena  (all  that 
corresponds  to  sensation)  must  be  given,  because  without  it  it 
could  not  even  be  thought,  nor  its  possibility  be  represented. 
An  object  of  the  senses  can  be  completely  determined  only  when 
it  is  compared  with  all  phenomenal  predicates,  and  represented 
by  them  either  affirmatively  or  negatively.  As,  however,  that 
which  constitutes  the  thing  itself  (as  a  phenomenon),  namely, 
the  real,  must  be  given,  and  as  without  this  the  thing  could  not 
be  conceived  at  all,  and  as  that  in  which  the  real  of  all  phenom- 
ena is  given  is  what  we  call  the  one  and  all  comprehending 
experience,  it  is  necessary  that  the  material  for  the  possibility 
of  all  objects  of  our  senses  should  be  presupposed  as  given  in 
one  whole,  on  the  limitation  of  which  alone  the  possibility  of  all 
empirical  objects,  their  difference  from  each  other,  and  their 
complete  determination  can  be  founded.  And  since  no  other 
objects  can  be  given  us  but  those  of  the  senses,  and  nowhere 
but  in  the  context  of  a  possible  experience,  nothing  can  be  an 
object  to  us,  if  it  does  not  presuppose  that  whole  of  all  empirical 
reality,  as  the  condition  of  its  possibility.  Owing  to  a  natural 
illusion,  we  are  led  to  consider  a  principle  which  applies  only  to 


448  KANT 

the  objects  of  our  senses,  as  a  principle  Valid  for  all  things, 
and  thus  to  take  the  empirical  principle  of  our  concepts  of  the 
possibility  of  things  as  phenomena,  by  omitting  this  limitation, 
as  a  transcendental  principle  of  the  possibility  of  things  in  gen- 
eral. 

If  afterwards  we  hypostasise  this  idea  of  the  whole  of  all 
reality,  this  is  owing  to  our  changing  dialectically  the  distributive 
unity  of  the  empirical  use  of  our  understanding  into  the  collec- 
tive unity  of  an  empirical  whole,  and  then  representing  to  our- 
selves this  whole  of  phenomena  as  an  individual  thing,  contain- 
ing in  itself  all  empirical  reality.  Afterwards,  by  means  of  the 
aforementioned  transcendental  subreption,  this  is  taken  for  the 
concept  of  a  thing  standing  at  the  head  of  the  possibility  of  all 
things,  and  supplying  the  real  conditions  for  their  complete  de- 
termination. 

SECTION  III.  THE  ARGUMENTS  OF  SPECULATIVE  REASON  IN 
PROOF  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  SUPREME  BEING 

This  therefore  is  the  natural  course  of  human  reason.  It 
begins  by  persuading  itself  of  the  existence  of  some  necessary 
Being.  In  this  being  it  recognises  unconditioned  existence.  It 
then  .seeks  for  the  concept  of  that  which  is  independent  of  all 
condition,  and  finds  it  in  that  which  is  itself  the  sufficient  con- 
dition of  all  other  things,  that  is,  in  that  which  contains  all  real- 
ity. Now  as  the  unlimited  all  is  absolute  unity,  and  implies  the 
concept  of  a  being,  one  and  supreme,  reason  concludes  that  the 
Supreme  Being,  as  the  original  cause  of  all  things,  must  exist 
by  absolute  necessity. 

There  are  only  three  kinds  of  proofs  of  the  existence  of  God 
from  speculative  reason. 

All  the  paths  that  can  be  followed  to  this  end  begin  either 
from  definite  experience  and  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  world  of 
sense,  known  to  us  through  experience,  and  ascend  from  it,  ac- 
cording to  the  laws  of  causality,  to  the  highest  cause,  existing 
outside  the  world;  or  they  rest  on  indefinite  experience  only, 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  449 

that  is,  on  any  existence  which  is  empirically  given;  or  lastly, 
they  leave  all  experience  out  of  account,  and  conclude,  entirely 
a  priori  from  mere  concepts,  the  existence  of  a  supreme  cause. 
The  first  proof  is  the  physico- theological,  the  second  the  cosmo- 
logical,  the  third  the  ontological  proof.  There  are  no  more,  and 
there  can  be  no  more. 

I  shall  show  that  neither  on  the  one  path,  the  empirical,  nor 
on  the  other,  the  transcendental,  can  reason  achieve  anything, 
and  that  it  stretches  its  wings  in  vain,  if  it  tries  to  soar  beyond 
the  world  of  sense  by  the  mere  power  of  speculation.  With  regard 
to  the  order  in  which  these  three  arguments  should  be  examined, 
it  will  be  the  opposite  of  that,  followed  by  reason  in  its  gradual 
development,  in  which  we  placed  them  also  at  first  ourselves. 
For  we  shall  be  able  to  show  that,  although  experience  gives  the 
first  impulse,  it  is  the  transcendental  concept  only  which  guides 
reason  in  its  endeavours,  and  fixes  the  last  goal  which  reason 
wishes  to  retain.  I  shall  therefore  begin  with  the  examination  of 
the  transcendental  proof,  and  see  afterwards  how  far  it  may  be 
strengthened  by  the  addition  of  empirical  elements. 

SECTION  IV.  THE  ONTOLOGICAL  PROOF 

It  is  easily  perceived,  from  what  has  been  said  before,  that  the 
concept  of  an  absolutely  necessary  Being  is  a  concept  of  pure 
reason,  that  is,  a  mere  idea,  the  objective  reality  of  which  is  by 
no  means  proved  by  the  fact  that  reason  requires  it.  That  idea 
does  no  more  than  point  to  a  certain  but  unattainable  com- 
pleteness, and  serves  rather  to  limit  the  understanding,  than  to 
extend  its  sphere.  It  seems  strange  and  absurd,  however,  that  a 
conclusion  of  an  absolutely  necessary  existence  from  a  given 
existence  in  general  should  seem  urgent  and  correct,  and  that  yet 
all  the  conditions  under  which  the  understanding  can  form  a 
concept  of  such  a  necessity  should  be  entirely  against  us. 

I  might  have  hoped  to  put  an  end  to  this  subtle  argumentation, 
without  many  words,  and  simply  by  an  accurate  definition  of  the 
concept  of  existence,  if  I  had  not  seen  that  the  illusion,  in  mis- 


45° 


KANT 


taking  a  logical  predicate  for  a  real  one  (that  is  the  predicate 
which  determines  a  thing),  resists  all  correction.  Everything 
can  become  a  logical  predicate,  even  the  subject  itself  may  be 
predicated  of  itself,  because  logic  takes  no  account  of  any  con- 
tents of  concepts.  Determination,  however,  is  a  predicate,  added 
to  the  concept  of  the  subject,  and  enlarging  it,  and  it  must  not 
therefore  be  contained  in  it. 

Being  is  evidently  not  a  real  predicate,  or  a  concept  of  some- 
thing that  can  be  added  to  the  concept  of  a  thing.  It  is  merely 
the  admission  of  a  thing,  and  of  certain  determinations  in  it. 
Logically,  it  is  merely  the  copula  of  a  judgment.  The  propo- 
sition, God  is  almighty,  contains  two  concepts,  each  having  its 
object,  namely,  God  and  almightiness.  The  small  word  is,  is  not 
an  additional  predicate,  but  only  serves  to  put  the  predicate  in 
relation  to  the  subject.  If,  then,  I  take  the  subject  (God)  with  all 
its  predicates  (including  that  of  almightiness),  and  say,  God  is, 
or  there  is  a  God,  I  do  not  put  a  new  predicate  to  the  concept 
of  God,  but  I  only  put  the  subject  by  itself,  with  all  its  predi- 
cates, in  relation  to  my  concept,  as  its  object.  Both  must  con- 
tain exactly  the  same  kind  of  thing,  and  nothing  can  have  been 
added  to  the  concept,  which  expresses  possibility  only,  by  my 
thinking  its  object  as  simply  given  and  saying,  it  is.  And  thus 
the  real  does  not  contain  more  than  the  possible.  A  hundred 
real  dollars  do  not  contain  a  penny  more  than  a  hundred  possible 
dollars.  For  as  the  latter  signify  the  concept,  the  former  the 
object  and  its  position  by  itself,  it  is  clear  that,  in  case  the  former 
contained  more  than  the  latter,  my  concept  would  not  express 
the  whole  object,  and  would  not  therefore  be  its  adequate  con- 
cept. In  my  financial  position  no  doubt  there  exists  more  by 
one  hundred  real  dollars,  than  by  their  concept  only  (that  is 
their  possibility),  because  in  reality  the  object  is  not  only  con- 
tained analytically  in  my  concept,  but  is  added  to  my  concept 
(which  is  a  determination  of  my  state),  synthetically;  but  the 
conceived  hundred  dollars  are  not  in  the  least  increased  through 
the  existence  which  is  outside  my  concept. 

By  whatever  and  by  however  many  predicates  I  may  think  a 
thing  (even  in  completely  determining  it),  nothing  is  really  added 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  451 

to  it,  if  I  add  that  the  thing  exists.  Otherwise,  it  would  not  be 
the  same  that  exists,  but  something  more  than  was  contained 
in  the  concept,  and  I  could  not  say  that  the  exact  object  of  my 
concept  existed.  Nay,  even  if  I  were  to  think  in  a  thing  all  reality, 
except  one,  that  one  missing  reality  would  not  be  supplied  by  my 
saying  that  so  defective  a  thing  exists,  but  it  would  exist  with 
the  same  defect  with  which  I  thought  it;  or  what  exists  would 
be  different  from  what  I  thought.  If,  then,  I  try  to  conceive  a 
being,  as  the  highest  reality  (without  any  defect),  the  question 
still .  remains,  whether  it  exists  or  not.  For  though  in  my  con- 
cept there  may  be  wanting  nothing  of  the  possible  real  content 
of  a  thing  in  general,  something  is  wanting  in  its  relation  to  my 
whole  state  of  thinking,  namely,  that  the  knowledge  of  that 
object  should  be  possible  a  posteriori  also.  .  .  . 

The  concept  of  a  Supreme  Being  is,  in  many  respects,  a  very 
useful  idea,  but,  being  an  idea  only,  it  is  quite  incapable  of  in- 
creasing, tjy  itself  alone,  our  knowledge  with  regard  to  what 
exists.  It  cannot  even  do  so  much  as  to  inform  us  any  further 
as  to  its  possibility.  The  analytical  characteristic  of  possibility, 
which  consists  in  the  absence  of  contradiction  in  mere  'positions 
(realities),  cannot  be  denied  to  it;  but  the  connection  of  all  real 
properties  in  one  and  the  same  thing  is  a  synthesis  the  possibil- 
ity of  which  we  cannot  judge  a  priori  because  these  realities  are 
not  given  to  us  as  such,  and  because,  even  if  this  were  so,  no 
judgment  whatever  takes  place,  it  being  necessary  to  look  for  the 
characteristic  of  the  possibility  of  synthetical  knowledge  in  ex- 
perience only,  to  which  the  object  of  an  idea  can  never  belong. 
Thus  we  see  that  the  celebrated  Leibnitz  is  far  from  having 
achieved  what  he  thought  he  had,  namely,  to  understand  a  priori 
the  possibility  of  so  sublime  an  ideal  Being. 

Time  and  labour  therefore  are  lost  on  the  famous  ontological 
(Cartesian)  proof  of  the  existence  of  a  Supreme  Being  from  mere 
concepts ;  and  a  man  might  as  well  imagine  that  he  could  become 
richer  in  knowledge  by  mere  ideas,  as  a  merchant  in  capital,  if, 
in  order  to  improve  his  position,  he  were  to  add  a  few  thoughts 
to  his  cash  account. 


452  KANT 

SECTION  V.  THE  COSMOLOGICAL  PROOF 

The  cosmological  proof,  which  we  have  now  to  examine,  retains 
the  connection  of  absolute  necessity  with  the  highest  reality,  but 
instead  of  concluding,  like  the  former,  from  the  highest  reality 
necessity  in  existence,  it  concludes  from  the  given  unconditioned 
necessity  of  any  being,  its  unlimited  reality.  It  thus  brings 
everything  at  least  into  the  groove  of  a  natural,  though  I  know 
not  whether  of  a  really  or  only  apparently  rational  syllogism, 
which  carries  the  greatest  conviction,  not  only  for  the  com- 
mon, but  also  for  the  speculative  understanding,  and  has  evi- 
dently drawn  the  first  outline  of  all  proofs  of  natural  theology, 
which  have  been  followed  at  all  times,  and  will  be  followed 
in  future  also,  however  much  they  may  be  hidden  and  disguised. 
We  shall  now  proceed  to  exhibit  and  to  examine  this  .cosmo- 
logical proof  which  Leibnitz  calls  also  the  proof  a  contingentia 
mundi.  * 

It  runs  as  follows:  If  there  exists  anything,  there  must  exist 
an  absolutely  necessary  Being  also.  Now  I,  at  least,  exist ;  there- 
fore there  exists  an  absolutely  necessary  Being.  The  minor  con- 
tains an  experience,  the  major  the  conclusion  from  experience 
in  general  to  the  existence  of  the  necessary.  This  proof  there- 
fore begins  with  experience,  and  is  not  entirely  a  priori,  or  onto- 
logical ;  and,  as  the  object  of  all  possible  experience  is  called  the 
world,  this  proof  is  called  the  cosmological  proof.  -As  it  takes 
no  account  of  any  peculiar  property  of  the  objects  of  experience, 
by  which  this  world  of  ours  may  differ  from  any  other  possible 
world,  it  is  distinguished,  in  its  name  also,  from  the  physico- 
theological  proof,  which  employs  as  arguments,  observations  of 
the  peculiar  property  of  this  our  world  of  sense. 

The  proof  then  proceeds  as  follows :  The  necessary  Being  can 
be  determined  in  one  way  only,  that  is,  by  one  only  of  all  possible 
opposite  predicates ;  it  must  therefore  be  determined  completely 
by  its  own  concept.  Now,  there  is  only  one  concept  of  a  thing 
possible,  which  a  priori  completely  determines  it,  namely,  that 
of  the  ens  realissimum.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  concept 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  453 

of  the  ens  realissimum  is  the  only  one  by  which  a  necessary 
Being  can  be  thought,  and  therefore  it  is  concluded  that  a  high- 
est Being  exists  by  necessity. 


I  said  before  that  a  whole  nest  of  dialectical  assumptions  was 
hidden  in  that  cosmological  proof,  and  that  transcendental  crit- 
icism might  easily  detect  and  destroy  it.  I  shall  here  enumerate 
them  only,  leaving  it  to  the  experience  of  the  reader  to  follow 
up  the  fallacies  and  remove  them. 

We  find,  first,  the  transcendental  principle  of  inferring  a 
cause  from  the  accidental.  This  principle,  that  everything  con- 
tingent must  have  a  cause,  is  valid  in  the  world  of  sense  only, 
and  has  not  even  a  meaning  outside  it.  For  the  purely  intellectual 
concept  of  the  contingent  cannot  produce  a  synthetical  propo- 
sition like  that  of  causality,  and  the  principle  of  causality  has 
no  meaning  and  no  criterion  of  its  use,  except  in  the  world 
of  sense,  while  here  it  is  meant  to  help  us  beyond  the  world  of 
sense. 

Secondly.  The  inference  of  a  first  cause,  based  on  the  im- 
possibility of  an  infinite  ascending  series  of  given  causes  in  this 
world  of  sense,  —  an  inference  which  the  principles  of  the  use 
of  reason  do  not  allow  us  to  draw  even  in  experience,  while 
here  we  extend  that  principle  beyond  experience,  whither  that 
series  can  never  be  prolonged. 

Thirdly.  The  false  self-satisfaction  of  reason  with  regard  to 
the  completion  of  that  series,  brought  about  by  removing  in  the 
end  every  kind  of  condition,  without  which,  nevertheless,  no 
concept  of  necessity  is  possible,  and  by  then,  when  any  definite 
concepts  have  become  impossible,  accepting  this  as  a  comple- 
tion of  our  concept. 

Fourthly.  The  mistaking  the  logical  possibility  of  a  concept 
of  all  united  reality  (without  any  internal  contradiction)  for  the 
transcendental,  which  requires  a  principle  for  the  practicability 
of  such  a  synthesis,  such  principle  however  being  applicable  to 
the  field  of  possible  experience  only,  etc.  .  .  . 


454 


KANT 


SECTION  VI.  THE  PHYSICO-THEOLOGICAL  PROOF 


If,  then,  neither  the  concept  of  things  in  general,  nor  the 
experience  of  any  existence  in  general,  can  satisfy  our  demands, 
there  still  remains  one  way  open,  namely,  to  try  whether  any 
definite  experience,  and  consequently  that  of  things  in  the  world 
as  it  is,  their  constitution  and  disposition,  may  not  supply  a  proof 
which  could  give  us  the  certain  conviction  of  the  existence  of  a 
Supreme  Being.  Such  a  proof  we  should  call  physico-theological. 
If  that,  however,  should  prove  impossible  too,  then  it  is  clear 
that  no  satisfactory  proof  whatever,  from  merely  speculative 
reason,  is  possible,  in  support  of  the  existence  of  a  Being,  cor- 
responding to  our  transcendental  idea. 

This  proof  will  always  deserve  to  be  treated  with  respect.  It 
is  the  oldest,  the  clearest,  and  most  in  conformity  with  human 
reason.  It  gives  life  to  the  study  of  nature,  deriving  its  own 
existence  from  it,  and  thus  constantly  acquiring  new  vigour. 

The  principal  points  of  the  physico-theological  proof  are  the 
following,  i st.  There  are  everywhere  in  the  world  clear  indica- 
tions of  an  intentional  arrangement  carried  out  with  great  wis- 
dom, and  forming  a  whole  indescribably  varied  in  its  contents 
and  infinite  in  extent. 

2dly.  The  fitness  of  this  arrangement  is  entirely  foreign  to 
the  things  existing  in  the  world,  and  belongs  to  them  contin- 
gently only;  that  is,  the  nature  of  different  things  could  never 
spontaneously,  by  the  combination  of  so  many  means,  co-operate 
towards  definite  aims,  if  these  means  had  not  been  selected  and 
arranged  on  purpose  by  a  rational  disposing  principle,  according 
to  certain  fundamental  ideas. 

3dly.  There  exists,  therefore,  a  sublime  and  wise  cause  (or 
many),  which  must  be  the  cause  of  the  world,  not  only  as  a  blind 
and  all-powerful  nature,  by  means  of  unconscious  fecundity,  but 
as  an  intelligence,  by  freedom. 

4thly.  The  unity  of  that  cause  may  be  inferred  with  certainty 
from  the  unity  of  the  reciprocal  relation  of  the  parts  of  the 


CRITIQUE  OF  PURE  REASON  455 

world,  as  portions  of  a  skilful  edifice,  so  far  as  our  experience 
reaches,  and  beyond  it,  with  plausibility,  according  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  analogy. 

According  to  this  argument,  the  fitness  and  harmony  existing 
in  so  many  works  of  nature  might  prove  the  contingency  of  the 
form,  but  not  of  the  matter,  that  is,  the  substance  in  the  world, 
because,  for  the  latter  purpose,  it  would  be  necessary  to  prove 
in  addition,  that  the  things  of  the  world  were  in  themselves  in- 
capable of  such  order  and  harmony,  according  to  general  laws, 
unless  there  existed,  even  in  their  substance,  the  product  of  a 
supreme  wisdom.  For  this  purpose,  very  different  arguments 
would  be  required  from  those  derived  from  the  analogy  of 
human  art.  The  utmost,  therefore,  that  could  be  established 
by  such  a  proof  would  be  an  architect  of  the  world,  always  very 
much  hampered  by  the  quality  of  the  material  with  which  he 
has  to  work,  not  a  creator,  to  whose  idea  everything  is  subject. 
This  would  by  no  means  suffice  for  the  purposed  aim  of  proving 
an  all-sufficient  original  Being.  If  we  wished  to  prove  the  con- 
tingency of  matter  itself,  we  must  have  recourse  to  a  transcen- 
dental argument,  and  this  is  the  very  thing  which  was  to  be 
avoided. 

The  fact  is  that,  after  having  reached  the  stage  of  admiration 
of  the  greatness,  the  wisdom,  the  power,  etc.  of  the  Author  of 
the  world,  and  seeing  no  further  advance  possible,  one  suddenly 
leaves  the  argument  carried  on  by  empirical  proofs,  and  lays 
hold  of  that  contingency  which,  from  the  very  first,  was  inferred 
from  the  order  and  design  of  the  world.  The  next  step  from 
that  contingency  leads,  by  means  of  transcendental  concepts 
only,  to  the  existence  of  something  absolutely  necessary,  and 
another  step  from  the  absolute  necessity  of  the  first  cause  to  its 
completely  determined  or  determining  concept,  namely,  that  of 
an  all-embracing  reality.  Thus  we  see  that  the  physico-theologi- 
cal  proof,  baffled  in  its  own  undertaking,  takes  suddenly  refuge 
in  the  cosmological  proof,  and  as  this  is  only  the  ontological 
proof  in  disguise,  it  really  carries  out  its  original  intention  by 


456  KANT 

means  of  pure  reason  only;  though  it  so  strongly  disclaimed  in 
the  beginning  all  connection  with  it,  and  professed  to  base  every- 
thing on  clear  proofs  from  experience. 

Thus  we  have  seen  that  the  physico-theological  proof  rests  on 
the  cosmological,  and  the  cosmological  on  the  ontological  proof 
of  the  existence  of  one  original  Being  as  the  Supreme  Being; 
and,  as  besides  these  three,  there  is  no  other  path  open  to  spec- 
ulative reason,  the  ontological  proof,  based  exclusively  on  pure 
concepts  of  reason,  is  the  only  possible  one,  always  supposing 
that  any  proof  of  a  proposition,  so  far  transcending  all  empirical 
use  of  the  understanding,  is  possible  at  all. 


CRITIQUE  OF   PRACTICAL   REASON 

Translated  from  the  German  *  by 
THOMAS  KINGSMILL  ABBOTT 

BOOK  I.  —  THE   ANALYTIC  OF   PURE   PRAC- 
TICAL REASON 

CHAPTER  I.    OF    THE    PRINCIPLES   OF   PURE 
PRACTICAL   REASON 

SECTION  I.  DEFINITION 

PRACTICAL  Principles  are  propositions  which  contain  a  general 
determination  of  the  will,  having  under  it  several  practical  rules. 
They  are  subjective,  or  Maxims,  when  the  condition  is  regarded 
by  the  subject  as  valid  only  for  his  own  will,  but  are  objective, 
or  practical  laws,  when  the  condition  is  recognized  as  objective, 
that  is,  valid  for  the  will  of  every  rational  being,  f 

SECTION  II.  THEOREM  I 

All  practical  principles  which  presuppose  an  object  (matter) 
of  the  faculty  of  desire  as  the  ground  of  determination  of  the 
will  are  empirical,  and  can  furnish  no  practical  laws. 

By  the  matter  of  the  faculty  of  desire  I  mean  an  object  the 
realization  of  which  is  desired.  Now,  if  the  desire  for  this  object 
precedes  the  practical  rule,  and  is  the  condition  of  our  making 
it  a  principle,  then  I  say  (in  the  first  place)  this  principle  is  in 
that  case  wholly  empirical,  for  then  what  determines  the  choice 
is  the  idea  of  an  object,  and  that  relation  of  this  idea  to  the  sub- 
ject by  which  its  -faculty  of  desire  is  determined  to  its  realiza- 
tion. Such  a  relation  to  the  subject  is  called  the  pleasure  in  the 
realization  of  an  object.  This,  then,  must  be  presupposed  as  a 

*  From  the  Kritik  der  praktischen  Vernunjt,  Riga,  1788;  id.,  Werke,  hrsg.  v. 
K.  Rosenkranz,  Lpz.  1838-39,  Bd.  x.  Reprinted  from  Kant's  Critique  oj  Pracli- 
calReason,tra,ns.  by  T.  K.  Abbott,  5th ed., London,  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  1898. 

f  "  Remarks  "  by  Kant  under  Sections  I-V  have  been  omitted. 


458  KANT 

condition  of  the  possibility  of  determination  of  the  will.  But  it 
is  impossible  to  know  a  priori  of  any  idea  of  an  object  whether 
it  will  be  connected  with  pleasure  or  pain,  or  be  indifferent.  In 
such  cases,  therefore,  the  determining  principle  of  the  choice 
must  be  empirical,  and,  therefore,  also  the  practical  material 
principle  which  presupposes  it  as  a  condition. 

In  the  second  place,  since  susceptibility  to  a  pleasure  or  pain 
can  be  known  only  empirically,  and  cannot  hold  in  the  same 
degree  for  all  rational  beings,  a  principle  which  is  based  on  this 
subjective  condition  may  serve  indeed  as  a  maxim  for  the  sub- 
ject which  possesses  this  susceptibility,  but  not  as  a  law  even 
to  him  (because  it  is  wanting  in  objective  necessity,  which  must 
be  recognized  a  priori) ;  it  follows,  therefore,  that  such  a  prin- 
ciple can  never  furnish  a  practical  law. 

SECTION  III.   THEOREM  II 

All  material  practical  principles  as  such  are  of  one  and  the 
same  kind,  and  come  under  the  general  principle  of  self-love  or 
private  happiness. 

Pleasure  arising  from  the  idea  of  the  existence  of  a  thing,  in 
so  far  as  it  is  to  determine  the  desire  of  this  thing,  is  founded 
on  the  susceptibility  of  the  subject,  since  it  depends  6n  the  pre- 
sence of  an  object;  hence  it  belongs  to  sense  (feeling),  and  not 
to  understanding,  which  expresses  a  relation  of  the  idea  to  an 
object  according  to  concepts,  not  to  the  subject  according  to 
feelings.  It  is  then  practical  only  in  so  far  as  the  faculty  of  de- 
sire is  determined  by  the  sensation  of  agreeableness  which  the 
subject  expects  from  the  actual  existence  of  the  object.  Now, 
a  rational  being's  consciousness  of  the  pleasantness  of  life  un- 
interruptedly accompanying  his  whole  existence  is  happiness, 
and  the  principle  which  makes  this  the  supreme  ground  of 
determination  of  the  will  is  the  principle  of  self-love.  All  mate- 
rial principles,  then,  which  place  the  determining  ground  of 
the  will  in  the  pleasure  or  pain  to  be  received  from  the  existence 
of  any  object  are  all  of  the  same  kind,  inasmuch  as  they  all  be- 
long to  the  principle  of  self-love  or  private  happiness. 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     459 

Corollary. 

All  material  practical  rules  place  the  determining  principle 
of  the  will  in  the  lower  desires,  and  if  there  were  no  purely  formal 
laws  of  the  will  adequate  to  determine  it,  then  we  could  not 
admit  any  higher  desire  at  all. 

SECTION  IV.   THEOREM  III 

A  rational  being  cannot  regard  his  maxims  as  practical  uni- 
versal laws,  unless  he  conceives  them  as  principles  which  deter- 
mine the  will,  not  by  their  matter,  but  by  their  form  only. 

By  the  matter  of  a  practical  principle  I  mean  the  object  of 
the  will.  This  object  is  either  the  'determining  ground  of  the 
will  or  it  is  not.  In  the  former  case  the  rule  of  the  will  is  sub- 
jected to  an  empirical  condition  (viz.  the  relation  of  the  deter- 
mining idea  to  the  feeling  of  pleasure  and  pain),  consequently 
it  cannot  be  a  practical  law.  Now,  when  we  abstract  from  a 
law  all  matter,  i.  e.  every  object  of  the  will  (as  a  determining 
principle),  nothing  is  left  but  the  mere  form  of  a  universal  legis- 
lation. Therefore,  either  a  rational  being  cannot  conceive  his 
subjective  practical  principles,  that  is,  his  maxims,  as  being  at 
the  same  time  universal  laws,  or  he  must  suppose  that  their 
mere  form,  by  which  they  are  fitted  for  universal  legislation,  is 
alone  what  makes  them  practical  laws. 

SECTION  V.  PROBLEM  I 

Supposing  that  the  mere  legislative  form  of  maxims  is  alone 
the  sufficient  determining  principle  of  a  will,  to  find  the  nature 
of  the  will  which  can  be  determined  by  it  alone. 

Since  the  bare  form  of  the  law  can  only  be  conceived  by  rea- 
son, and  is,  therefore,  not  an  object  of  the  senses,  and  conse- 
quently does  not  belong  to  the  class  of  phenomena,  it  follows 
that  the  idea  of  it,  which  determines  the  will,  is  distinct  from  all 
the  principles  that  determine  events  in  nature  according  to  the 
law  of  causality,  because  in  their  case  the  determining  princi- 


460  KANT 

pies  must  themselves  be  phenomena.  Now,  if  no  other  deter- 
mining principle  can  serve  as  a  law  for  the  will  except  that  uni- 
versal legislative  form,  such  a  will  must  be  conceived  as  quite 
independent  on  the  natural  law  of  phenomena  in  their  mutual 
relation,  namely,  the  law  of  causality;  such  independence  is 
called  freedom  in  the  strictest,  that  is  in  the  transcendental 
sense;  consequently,  a  will  which  can  have  its  law  in  nothing 
but  the  mere  legislative  form  of  the  maxim  is  a  free  will. 


SECTION  VI.  PROBLEM  II 

Supposing  that  a  will  is  free,  to  find  the  law  which  alone  is 
competent  to  determine  it  necessarily. 

Since  the  matter  of  the  practical  law,  i.  e.  an  object  of  the 
maxim,  can  never  be  given  otherwise  than  empirically,  and  the 
free  will  is  independent  on  empirical  conditions  (that  is,  condi- 
tions belonging  to  the  world  of  sense)  and  yet  is  determinable, 
consequently  a  free  will  must  find  its  principle  of  determination 
in  the  law,  and  yet  independently  of  the  matter  of  the  law.  But, 
besides  the  matter  of  the  law,  nothing  is  contained  in  it  except 
the  legislative  form.  It  is  the  legislative  form,  then,  contained 
in  the  maxim,  which  can  alone  constitute  a  principle  of  deter- 
mination of  the  [free]  will. 

Remark. 

Thus  freedom  and  an  unconditional  practical  law  recipro- 
cally imply  each  other.  Now  I  do  not  ask  here  whether  they 
are  in  fact  distinct,  or  whether  an  unconditioned  law  is  not 
rather  merely  the  consciousness  of  a  pure  practical  reason,  and 
the  latter  identical  with  the  positive  concept  of  freedom ;  I  only 
ask,  whence  begins  our  knowledge  of  the  unconditionally  practi- 
cal, whether  it  is  from  freedom  or  from  the  practical  law?  Now 
it  cannot  begin  from  freedom,  for  of  this  we  cannot  be  imme- 
diately conscious,  since  the  first  concept  of  it  is  negative;  nor 
can  we  infer  it  from  experience,  for  experience  gives  us  the 
knowledge  only  of  the  law  of  phenomena,  and  hence  of  the 
mechanism  of  nature,  the  direct  opposite  of  freedom.  It  is 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     461 

therefore  the  moral  law,  of  which  we  become  directly  conscious 
(as  soon  as  we  trace  for  ourselves  maxims  of  the  will),  that  first 
presents  itself  to  us,  and  leads  directly  to  the  concept  of  freedom, 
inasmuch  as  reason  presents  it  as  a  principle  of  determination 
not  to  be  outweighed  by  any  sensible  conditions,  nay,  wholly 
independent  of  them. 

SECTION  VII.  FUNDAMENTAL  LAW  OF  THE  PURE  PRACTICAL 

REASON 

Act  so  that  the  maxim  of  thy  will  can  always  at  the  same  time 
hold  good  as  a  principle  of  universal  legislation. 

Remark. 

.  .  .  We  may  call  the  consciousness  of  this  fundamental  law 
a  fact  of  reason,  because  we  cannot  reason  it  out  from  ante- 
cedent data  of  reason,  e.  g.  the  consciousness  of  freedom  (for 
this  is  not  antecedently  given),  but  it  forces  itself  on  us  as  a  syn- 
thetic a  priori  proposition  which  is  not  based  on  any  intui- 
tion, either  pure  or  empirical.  It  would,  indeed,  be  analytical  if 
the  freedom  of  the  will  were  presupposed,  but  to  presuppose  free- 
dom as  a  positive  concept  would  require  an  intellectual  intui- 
tion, which  cannot  here  be  assumed ;  however,  when  we  regard 
this  law  as  given,  it  must  be  observed,  in  order  not  to  fall  into 
any  misconception,  that  it  is  not  an  empirical  fact,  but  the  sole 
fact  of  the  pure  reason,  which  thereby  announces  itself  as  origi- 
nally legislative  (sic  volo  sic  jubeo). 

Corollary. 

Pure  reason  is  practical  of  itself  alone,  and  gives  (to  man)  a 
universal  law  which  we  call  the  Moral  Law. 

Remark. 

Now  this  principle  of  morality,  just  on  account  of  the  univer- 
sality of  the  legislation  which  makes  -it  the  formal  supreme 
determining  principle  of  the  will,  without  regard  to  any  ^sub- 
jective differences,  is  declared  by  the  reason  to  be  a  law  for  all 
rational  beings,  in  so  far  as  they  have  a  will,  that  is,  a  power  to 


462  KANT 

determine  their  causality  by  the  conception  of  rules ;  and,  there- 
fore, so  far  as  they  are  capable  of  acting  according  to  principles, 
and  consequently  also  according  to  practical  a  priori  princi- 
ples (for  these  alone  have  the  necessity  that  reason  requires 
in  a  principle).  It  is,  therefore,  not  limited  to  men  only,  but 
applies  to  all  finite  beings  that  possess  reason  and  will ;  nay,  it 
even  includes  the  Infinite  Being  as  the  supreme  intelligence.  In 
the  former  case,  however,  the  law  has  the  form  of  an  imperative, 
because  in  them,  as  rational  beings,  we  can  suppose  a  pure  will, 
but  being  creatures  affected  with  wants  and  physical  motives, 
not  a  holy  will,  that  is,  one  which  would  be  incapable  of  any 
maxim  conflicting  with  the  moral  law.  In  their  case,  therefore, 
the  moral  law  is  an  imperative,  which  commands  categorically, 
because  the  law  is  unconditioned;  the  relation  of  such  a  will 
to  this  law  is  dependence  under  the  name  of  obligation,  which 
implies  a  constraint  to  an  action,  though  only  by  reason  and  its 
objective  law ;  and  this  action  is  called  duty,  because  an  elective 
will,  subject  to  pathological  affections  (though  not  determined 
by  them,  and  therefore  still  free),  implies  a  wish  that  arises 
from  subjective  causes,  and  therefore  may  often  be  opposed  to 
the  pure  objective  determining  principle ;  whence  it  requires  the 
moral  constraint  of  a  resistance  of  the  practical  reason,  which 
may  be  called  an  internal,  but  intellectual,  compulsion.  In  the 
supreme  intelligence  the  elective  will  is  rightly  conceived  as  in- 
capable of  any  maxim  which  could  not  at  the  same  time  be 
objectively  a  law;  and  the  notion  of  holiness,  which  on  that 
account  belongs  to  it,  places  it,  not  indeed  above  all  practical 
laws,  but  above  all  practically  restrictive  laws,  and  consequently 
above  obligation  and  duty.  This  holiness  of  will  is,  however,  a 
practical  idea,  which  must  necessarily  serve  as  a  type  to  which 
finite  rational  beings  can  only  approximate  indefinitely,  and 
which  the  pure  moral  law,  which  is  itself  on  this  account  called 
holy,  constantly  and  rightly  holds  before  their  eyes.  The  utmost 
that  finite  practical  reason  can  effect  is  to  be  certain  of  this  in- 
definite progress  of  one's  maxims,  and  of  their  steady  disposition 
to  advance.  This  is  virtue,  and  virtue,  at  least  as  a  naturally 
acquired  faculty,  can  never  be  perfect,  because  assurance  in 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     463 

such  a  case  never  becomes  apodictic  certainty,  and  when  it  only 
amounts  to  persuasion  is  very  dangerous. 


SECTION   VIII.  —  THEOREM   IV 

The  autonomy  of  the  will  is  the  sole  principle  of  all  moral 
laws,  and  of  all  duties  which  conform  to  them ;  on  the  other  hand, 
heteronomy  of  the  elective  will  not  only  cannot  be  the  basis  of 
any  obligation,  but  is,  on  the  contrary,  opposed  to  the  principle 
thereof,  and  to  the  morality  of  the  will. 

In  fact  the  sole  principle  of  morality  consists  in  the  indepen- 
dence on  all  matter  of  the  law  (namely,  a  desired  object),  and 
in  the  determination  of  the  elective  will  by  the  mere  universal 
legislative  form  of  which  its  maxim  must  be  capable.  Now  this 
independence  is  freedom  in  the  negative  sense,  and  this  self-legis- 
lation of  the  pure,  and,  therefore,  practical  reason  is  freedom 
in  the  positive  sense.  Thus  the  moral  law  expresses  nothing  else 
than  the  autonomy  of  the  pure  practical  reason;  that  is,  freedom; 
and  this  is  itself  the  formal  condition  of  all  maxims,  and  on  this 
condition  only  can  they  agree  with  the  supreme  practical  law. 
If  therefore  the  matter  of  the  volition,  which  can  be  nothing  else 
than  the  object  of  a  desire  that  is  connected  with  the  law,  enters 
into  the  practical  law,  as  the  condition  of  its  possibility,  there 
results  heteronomy  of  the  elective  will,  namely,  dependence  on 
the  physical  law  that  we  should  follow  some  impulse  or  inclina- 
tion. In  that  case  the  will  does  not  give  itself  the  law,  but  only 
the  precept  how  rationally  to  follow  pathological  law;  and  the 
maxim  which,  in  such  a  case,  never  contains  the  universally 
legislative  form,  not  only  produces  no  obligation,  but  is  itself 
opposed  to  the  principle  of  a  pure  practical  reason,  and,  there- 
fore, also  to  the  moral  disposition,  even  though  the  resulting 
action  may  be  conformable  to  the  law. 

Remark  I 

The  matter  then  of  the  maxim  may  remain,  but  it  must  not 
be  the  condition  of  it,  else  the  maxim  could  not  be  fit  for  a  law. 
Hence,  the  mere  form  of  law,  which  limits  the  matter,  must  also 


464  KANT 

be  a  reason  for  adding  this  matter  to  the  will,  not  for  presup- 
posing it.  For  example,  let  the  matter  be  my  own  happiness. 
This  (rule),  if  I  attribute  it  to  every  one  (as,  in  fact,  I  may,  in  the 
case  of  every  finite  being),  can  become  an  objective  practical 
law  only  if  I  include  the  happiness  of  others.  Therefore,  the 
law  that  we  should  promote  the  happiness  of  others  does  not 
arise  from  the  assumption  that  this  is  an  object  of  everyone's 
choice,  but  merely  from  this,  that  the  form  of  universality  which 
reason  requires  as  the  condition  of  giving  to  a  maxim  of  self- 
love  the  objective  validity  of  a  law,  is  the  principle  that  deter- 
mines the  will.  Therefore  it  was  not  the  object  (the  happiness 
of  others)  that  determined  the  pure  will,  but  it  was  the  form  of 
law  only,  by  which  I  restricted  my  maxim,  founded  on  inclina- 
tion, so  as  to  give  it  the  universality  of  a  law,  and  thus  to  adapt 
it  to  the  practical  reason ;  and  it  is  this  restriction  alone,  and  not 
the  addition  of  an  external  spring,  that  can  give  rise  to  the  notion 
of  the  obligation  to  extend  the  maxim  of  my  self-love  to  the  hap- 
piness of  others. 


CHAPTER  II.    THE  CONCEPT  OF  AN  OBJECT  OF 
PURE   PRACTICAL   REASON 

By  a  concept  of  the  practical  reason  I  understand  the  idea  of 
an  object  as  an  effect. possible  to  be  produced  through  freedom. 
To  be  an  object  of  practical  knowledge,  as  such,  signifies,  there- 
fore, only  the  relation  of  the  will  to  the  action  by  which  the 
object  or  its  opposite  would  be  realized ;  and  to  decide  whether 
something  is  an  object  of  pure  practical  reason  or  not,  is  only  to 
discern  the  possibility  or  impossibility  of  willing  the  'action  by 
which,  if  we  had  the  required  power  (about  which  experience 
must  decide),  a  certain  object  would  be  realized.  If  the  object 
be  taken  »as  the  determining  principle  of  our  desire,  it  must  first 
be  known  whether  it  is  physically  possible  by  the  free  use  of  our 
powers,  before  we  decide  whether  it  is  an  object  of  practical 
reason  or  not.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  law  can  be  considered 
a  priori  as  the  determining  principle  of  the  action,  and  the  latter 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     465 

therefore  as  determined  by  pure  practical  reason,  the  judgment, 
whether  a  thing  is  an  object  of  pure  practical  reason  or  not  does 
not  depend  at  all  on  the  comparison  with  our  physical  power; 
and  the  question  is  only  whether  we  should  will  an  action  that 
is  directed  to  the  existence  of  an  object,  if  the  object  were  in  OUT 
power ;  hence  the  previous  question  is  only jis  to  the  moral  possi- 
bility of  the  action,  for  in  this  case  it  is  not  the  object,  but  the 
law  of  the  will,  that  is  the  determining  principle  of  the  action. 
The  only  objects  of  practical  reason  are  therefore  those  of  good,  \ 
and  evil.  For  by  the  former  is  meant  an  object  necessarily  de7 
sired  according  to  a  principle  of  reason ;  by  the  latter  one  neces- 
sarily shunned,  also  according  to  a  principle  of  reason.  ' 

In  estimating  what  is  good  or  evil  in  itself,  as  distinguished 
from  what  can  be  so  called  only  relatively,  the  following  points 
are  to  be  considered.  Either  a  rational  principle  is  already  con.- 
ceived  al^oyitself  the  determining  principle  of  the  will,  without 
regard  to  possible  objects  of  desire  (and  therefore  by  the  mere 
legislative  form  of  the  maxim),  and  in  that  case  that  principle 
is  a  practical  a  priori  law,  and  pure  reason  is  supposed  to  be 
practical  of  itself.  The  law  in  that  case  determines  the  will 
directly ;  the  action  conformed  to  it  is  good  in  itself ;  a  will  whose 
maxim  always  conforms  to  this  law  is  good  absolutely  in  every 
respect,  and  is  the  supreme  condition  of  all  good.  Or  the  maxim  X 
of  the  will  is  consequent  on  a  determining  principle  of  desire 
which  presupposes  an  object  of  pleasure  or  pain,  something 
therefore  that  pleases  or  displeases,  and  the  maxim  of  reason 
that  we  should  pursue  the  former  and  avoid  the  latter  determines 
our  actions  as  good  relatively  to  our  inclination,  that  is,  good 
indirectly  (i.  e.  relatively  to  a  different  end  to  which  they  are 
means),  and  in  that  case  these  maxims  can  never  be  called  laws, 
but  may  be  called  rational  practical  .precepts.  The  end  itself, 
the  pleasure  that  we  seek,  is  in  the  latter  case  not  a  good  but  a 
welfare ;  not  a  concept  of  reason,  but  an  empirical  concept  of 
an  object  of  sensation ;  but  the  use  of  the  means  thereto,  that 
is,  the  action,  is  nevertheless  called  good  (because  rational  de- 
liberation is  required  for  it),  not  however  good  absolutely,  but  . 


466  KANT 

only  relatively  to  our  sensuous  nature,  with  regard  to  its  feelings 
of  pleasure  and  displeasure ;  but  the  will  whose  maxim  is  affected 
thereby  is  not  a  pure  will ;  this  is  directed  only  to  that  in  which 
pure  reason  by  itself  can  be  practical. 

Now,  since  the  notions  of  good  and  evil,  as  consequences  of 
the  a  priori  determination  of  the  will,  imply  also  a  pure  prac- 
tical principle,  and  therefore  a  causality  of  pure  reason;  hence 
they  do  not  originally  refer  to  objects  (so  as  to  be,  for  instance, 
special  modes  of  the  synthetic  unity  of  the  manifold  of  given 
intuitions  in  one  consciousness)  like  the  pure  concepts  of  the 
understanding  or  categories  of  reason  in  its  theoretic  employ- 
ment; on  the  contrary,  they  presuppose  that  objects  are  given; 
but  they  are  all  modes  (modi)  of  a  single  category,  namely, 
that  of  causality,  the  determining  principle  of  which  consists 
in  the  rational  conception  of  a  law,  which  as  a  law  of  freedom 
reason  gives  to  itself,  thereby  a  priori  proving  itself  practical. 
However,  as  the  actions  on  the  one  side  come  under  a  law  which 
is  not  a  physical  law,  but  a  law  of  freedom,  and  consequently 
belong  to  the  conduct  of  beings  in  the  world  of  intelligence,  yet 
on  the  other  side  as  events  in  the  world  of  sense  they  belong  to 
phenomena;  hence  the  determinations  of  a  practical  reason  are 
only  possible  in  reference  to  the  lajtter,  and  therefore  in  accord- 
ance with  the  categories  of  the  understanding;  not  indeed  with 
a  view  to  any  theoretic  employment  of  it,  i.  e.  so  as  to  bring 
the  manifold  of  (sensible)  intuition  under  one  consciousness  a 
priori;  but  only  to  subject  the  manifold  of  desires  to  the  unity 
of  consciousness  of  a  practical  reason,  giving  it  commands  jn 
the  moral  law,  i.  e.  to  a  pure,  will  a  priori. 


CHAPTER   III.     OF    THE    MOTIVES    OF    PURE 
PRACTICAL   REASON 

What  is  essential  in  the  moral  worth  of  actions  is  that  the  moral 
law  should  directly  determine  the  will.  If  the  determination  of 
the  will  takes  place  in  conformity  indeed  to  the  moral  law,  but 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     467 

only  by  means  of  a  feeling,  no  matter  of  what  kind,  which  has 
to  be  presupposed  in  order  that  the  law  may  be  sufficient  to 
determine  the  will,  and  therefore  not  jor  the  sake  of  the  law,  then 
the  action  will  possess  legality  but  not  morality.  Now,  if  we 
understand  by  motive  [or  spring]  (elater  animi)  the  subjective 
ground  of  determination  of  the  will  of  a  being  whose  Reason 
does  not  necessarily  conform  to  the  objective  law,  by  virtue  of 
its  own  nature,  then  it  will  follow,  first,  that  no  motives  can  be 
attributed  to  the  Divine  will,  and  that  the  motives  of  the  human 
will  (as  well  as  that  of  every  created  rational  being)  can  never 
be  anything  else  than  the  moral  law,  and  consequently  that  the 
objective  principle  of  determination  must  always  and  alone 
be  also  the  subjectively  sufficient  determining  principle  of  the 
action,  if  this  is  not  merely  to  fulfil  the  letter  of  the  law,  without 
containing  its  spirit. 

Since,  then,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  moral  law  influence 
over  the  will,  we  must  not  seek  for  any  other  motives  that  might 
enable  us  to  dispense  with  the  motive  of  the  law  itself,  because 
that  would  produce  mere  hypocrisy,  without  consistency;  and 
it  is  even  dangerous  to  allow  other  motives  (for  instance,  that  of 
interest)  even  to  co-operate  along  with  the  moral  law;  hence 
nothing  is  left  us  but  to  determine  carefully  in  what  way  the 
moral  law  becomes  a  motive,  and  what  effect  this  has  upon  the 
faculty  of  desire.  For  as  to  the  question  how  a  law  can  be  directly 
and  of  itself  a  determining  principle  of  the  will  (which  is  the 
essence  of  morality),  this  is,  for  human  reason,  an  insoluble 
problem  and  identical  with  the  question  how  a  free  will  is 
possible.  Therefore  what  we  have  to  show  a  priori  is,  not  why 
the  moral  law  in  itself  supplies  a  motive,  but  what  effect  it,  as 
such,  produces  (or,  more  correctly  speaking,  must  produce) 
on  the  mind. 

The  essential  point  in  every  determination  of  the  will  by  the 
moral  law  is  that  being  a  free  will  it  is  determined  simply  by 
the  moral  law,  not  only  without  the  co-operation  of  sensible 
impulses,  but  even  to  the  rejection  of  all  such,  and  to  the  check- 
ing of  all  inclinations  so  far  as  they  might  be  opposed  to  that 
law.  So  far,  then,  the  effect  of  the  moral  law  as  a  motive  is  only 


468  KANT 

negative,  and  this  motive  can  be  known  a  priori  to  be  such. 
For  all  inclination  and  every  sensible  impulse  is  founded  on 
feeling,  and  the  negative  effect  produced  on  feeling  (by  the 
check  on  the  inclinations)  is  itself  feeling ;  consequently,  we  can 
see  a  priori  that  the  moral  law^  as  a  determining  principle  of 
the  will,  must  by  thwarting  all  our  inclinations  produce  a  feeling 
which  may  be  called  pain ;  and  in  this  we  have  the  first,  perhaps 
the  only  instance,  in  which  we  are  able  from  a  priori  consid- 
erations to  determine  the  relation  of  a  cognition  (in  this  case  of 
pure  practical  reason)  to  the  feeling  of  pleasure  or  displeasure. 
All  the  inclinations  together  (which  can  be  reduced  to  a  toler- 
able system,  in  which  case  their  satisfaction  is  called  happi- 
ness) constitute  self-regard  (solipsismus).  This  is  either  the  self- 
love  that  consists  in  an  excessive  fondness  for  oneself  (philautia) , 
or  satisfaction  with  oneself  (arrogantia).  The  former  is  called 
particularly  selfishness ;  the  latter  self-conceit.  Pure  practical 
reason  only  checks  selfishness,  looking  on  it  as  natural  and  active 
in  us  even  prior  to  the  moral  law,  so  far  as  to  limit  it  to  the  con- 
dition of  agreement  with  this  law,  and  then  it  is  called  rational 
self-love.  But  self-conceit  Reason  strikes  down  altogether,  since 
all  claims  to  self-esteem  which  precede  agreement  with  the  moral 
law  are  vain  and  unjustifiable,  for  the  certainty  of  a  state  of 
mind  that  coincides  with  this  law  is  the  first  condition  of  per- 
sonal worth  (as  we  shall  presently  show  more  clearly),  and  prior 
to  this  conformity  any  pretension  to  worth  is  false  and  unlawful. 
Now  the  propensity  to  self-esteem  is  one  of  the  inclinations  which 
the  moral  law  checks,  inasmuch  as  that  esteem  rests  only  on 
morality.  Therefore,  the  moral  law  breaks  down  self-conceit. 
But  as  this  law  is  something  positive  in  itself,  namely,  the  form 
of  an  intellectual  causality,  that  is,  of  freedom,  it  must  be  an 
object  of  respect ;  for  by  opposing  the  subjective  antagonism  of 
the  inclinations  it  weakens  self-conceit ;  and  since  it  ev^n  breaks 
down,  that  is,  humiliates  this  conceit,  it  is  an  object  of  the  high- 
est respect,  and  consequently  is  the  foundation  of  a  positive 
feeling  which  is  not  of  empirical  origin,  but  is  known  a  priori^ 
Therefore  respect  for  the  moral  law  is  a  feeling  which  is  pro- 
duced by  an  intellectual  cause,  and  this  feeling  is  the  only  one 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     469 

that  we  know  quite  a  priori,  and  the  necessity  of  which  we  can 
perceive. 

The  moral  law  is  in  fact  for  the  will  of  a  perfect  being  a 
law  of  holiness,  but  for  the  will  of  every  finite  rational  being 
a  law  of  duty,  of  moral  constraint,  and  of  the  determination 
of  its  actions  by  respect  for  this  law  and  reverence  for  its 
duty.  No  other  subjective  principle  must  be  assumed  as  a  mo- 
tive, else  while  the  action  might  chance  to  be  such  as  the  law 
prescribes,  yet  as  it  does  not  proceed  from  duty,  the  intention, 
which  is  the  thing  properly  in  question  in  this  legislation,  is  not 
moral. 

It  is  a  very  beautiful  thing  to  do  good  to  men  from  love  to 
them  and  from  sympathetic  good  will,  or  to  be  just  from  love 
of  order;  but  this  is  not  yet  the  true  moral  maxim  of  our  con- 
duct which  is  suitable  to  our  position  amongst  rational  beings 
as  men,  when  we  pretend  with  fanciful  pride  to  set  ourselves 
above  the  thought  of  duty,  like  volunteers,  and,  as  if  we  were 
independent  on  the  command,  to  want  to  do  of  our  own  good 
pleasure  what  we  think  we  need  no  command  to  do.  We  stand 
under  a  discipline  of  reason,  and  in  all  our  maxims  must  not 
forget  our  subjection  to  it,  nor  withdraw  anything  therefrom, 
or  by  an  egotistic  presumption  diminish  aught  of  the  authority 
of  the  law  (although  our  own -reason  gives  it)  so  as  to  set  the 
determining  principle  of  our  will,  even  though  the  law  be  con- 
formed to,  anywhere  else  but  in  the  law  itself  and  in  respect  for 
this  law.  Duty  and  obligation  are  the  only  names  that  we  must 
give  to  our  relation  to  the  moral  law.  We  are  indeed  legislative 
members  of  a  moral  kingdom  rendered  possible  by  freedom, 
and  presented  to  us  by  reason  as  an  object  of  respect ;  but  yet 
we  are  subjects  in  it,  not  the  sovereign,  and  to  mistake  our  in- 
ferior position  as  creatures  and  presumptuously  to  reject  the 
authority  of  the  moral  law  is  already  to  revolt  from  it  in  spirit, 
even  though  the  letter  of  it  is  fulfilled. 

Duty!  Thou  sublime  and  mighty  name  that  dost  embrace 
nothing  charming  or  insinuating,  but  requirest  submission,  and 


470  KANT 

yet  seekest  not  to  move  the  will  by  threatening  aught  that  would 
arouse  natural  aversion  or  terror,  but  merely  boldest  forth  a 
law  which  of  itself  finds  entrance  into  the  mind,  and  yet  gains 
reluctant  reverence  (though  not  always  obedience),  a  law  before 
which  all  inclinations  are  dumb,  even  though  they  secretly 
counter- work  it ;  what  origin  is  there  worthy  of  thee,  and  where 
is  to  be  found  the  root  of  thy  noble  descent  which  proudly  re- 
jects all  kindred  with  the  inclinations ;  a  root  to  be  derived  from 
which  is  the  indispensable  condition  of  the  only  worth  which 
men  can  give  themselves? 

It  can  be  nothing  less  than  a  power  which  elevates  man  above 
himself  (as  a  part  of  the  world  -of  sense),  a  power  which  con- 
nects him  with  an  order  of  things  that  only  the  understanding 
can  conceive,  with  a  world  which  at  the  same  time  commands 
the  whole  sensible  world,  and  with  it  the  empirically  determin- 
able  existence  of  man  in  time,  as  well  as  the  sum  total  of  all  ends 
(which  totality  alone  suits  such  unconditional  practical  laws 
as  the  moral).  This  power  is  nothing  but  personality,  that  is, 
freedom  and  independence  on  the  mechanism  of  nature,  yet, 
regarded  also  as  a  faculty  of  a  being  which  is  subject  to.  special 
laws,  namely,  pure  practical  laws  given  by  its  own  reason;  so 
that  the  person  as  belonging  to  the  sensible  world  is  subject  to 
his  own  personality  as  belonging  to  the  intelligible  [super-sen- 
sible] world.  It  is  then  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  man,  as  be- 
longing to  both  worlds,  must  regard  his  own  nature  in  reference 
to  its  second  and  highest  characteristic  only  with  reverence, 
and  its  laws  with  the  highest  respect. 

On  this  origin  are  founded  many  expressions  which  designate 
the  worth  of  objects  according  to  moral  ideas.  The  moral  law 
is  holy  (inviolable).  Man  is  indeed  unholy  enough,  but  he  must 
regard  humanity  in  his  own  person  as  holy.  In  all  creation 
everything  one  chooses,  and  over  which  one  has  any  power, 
may  be  used  merely  as  means;  man  alone,  and  with  him  every 
rational  creature,  is  an  end  in  himself.  By  virtue  of  the  auto- 
nomy of  his  freedom  he  is  the  subject  of  the  moral  law,  which 
is  holy.  Just  for  this  reason  every  will,  even  every  person's  own 
individual  will,  in  relation  to  itself,  is  restricted  to  the  condition 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     471 

of  agreement  with  the  autonomy  of  the  rational  being,  that  is  to 
say,  that  it  is  not  to  be  subject  to  any  purpose  which  cannc 
accord  with  a  law  which  might  arise  from  the  will  of  the  passiv 
subject  himself;  the  latter  is,  therefore,  never  to  be  employe  1 
merely  as  means,  but  as  itself  also,  concurrently,  an  end.    V 
justly  attribute  this  condition  even  to  the  Divine  will,  with  ) 
gard  to  the  rational  beings  in  the  world,  which  are  His  creatur  f 
since  it  rests  on  their  personality,  by  which  alone  they  are  \    re 
in  themselves. 


BOOK   II.  -  DIALECTIC     OF  PURE    PRACTICAL 

REASON 

CHAPTER  I.    OF   A    DIALECTIC  OF  PURE   PRAC- 
TICAL  REASON   GENERALLY 

Pure  reason  always  has  its  dialectic,  whether  it  is  considered 
in  its  speculative  or  its  practical  employment;  for  it  requires 
the  absolute  totality  of  the  conditions  of  what  is  given  condi- 
tioned, and  this  can  only  be  found  in  things  in  themselves.  But 
as  all  conceptions  of  things  in  themselves  must  be  referred  to 
intuitions,  and  with  us  men  these  can  never  be  other  than  sen- 
sible, and  hence  can  never  enable  us  to  know  objects  as  things 
in  themselves  but  only  as  appearances,  and  since  the  uncon- 
ditioned can  never  be  found  in  this  chain  of  appearances  which 
consists  only  of  conditioned  and  conditions;  thus  from  apply- 
ing this  rational  idea  of  the  totality  of  the  conditions  (in  other 
words  of  the  unconditioned)  to  appearances  there  arises  an  in- 
evitable illusion,  as  if  these  latter  were  things  in  themselves  (for 
in  the  absence  of  a  warning  critique  they  are  always  regarded 
as  such).  This  illusion  would  never  be  noticed  as  delusive  if  it 
did  not  betray  itself  by  a  conflict  of  reason  with  itself,  when  it 
applies  to  appearances  its  fundamental  principle  of  presuppos- 
ing the  unconditioned  to  everything  conditioned.  By  this,  how- 
ever, reason  is  compelled  to  trace  this  illusion  to  its  source,  and 
search  how  it  can  be  removed,  and  this  can  only  be  done  by  a 


472  KANT 

complete  critical  examination  of  the  whole  pure  faculty  of  rea- 
son ;  so  that  the  antinomy  of  the  pure  reason  which  is  manifest 
in  its  dialectic  is  in  fact  the  most  beneficial  error  into  which 
human  reason  could  ever  have  fallen,  since  it  at  last  drives  us  to 
^earch  for  the  key  to  escape  from  this  labyrinth ;  and  when  this 
c~ey  is  found,  it  further  discovers  that  which  we  did  not  seek 
i&it  yet  had  need  of,  namely,  a  view  into  a  higher  and  an  im- 
je-utable  order  of  things,  in  which- we -even  now  are,  and  in  which 
wh  are  thereb.y.-eftftbfed  "by  definite  precepts  to  continue  to  live 
recording  to  the  highest  dictates  of  reason. 

It  may  be  seen  in  detail  in  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  how 
in  its  speculative  employment  this  natural  dialectic  is  to  be 
solved,  and  how  the  error  which  arises  from  a  very  natural  illu- 
sion may  be  guarded  against.  But  reason  in  its  practical  use  is 
not  a  whit  better  off.  As  pure  practical  reason,  it  likewise  seeks 
to  find  the  unconditioned  for  the  practically  conditioned  (which 
rests  on  inclinations  and  natural  wants),  and  this  not  as  the 
determining  principle  of  the  will,  but  even  when  this  is  given 
(in  the  moral  law)  it  seeks  the  unconditioned  totality  of  the 
object  of  pure  practical  reason  under  the  name  of  the  Summum 
Bonum. 

The  moral  law  is  the  sole  determining  principle  of  a  pure 
will.  But  since  this  is  merely  formal  (viz.  as  prescribing  only 
the  form  of  the  maxim  as  universally  legislative),  it  abstracts 
as  a  determining  principle  from  all  matter  —  that  is  to  say,  from 
every  object  of  volition.  Hence,  though  the  summum  bonum 
may  be  the  whole  object  of  a  pure  practical  reason,  i.  e.  a  pure 
will,  yet  it  is  not  on  that  account  to  be  regarded  as  its  deter- 
mining principle;  and  the  moral  law  alone  must  be  regarded  as 
the  principle  on  which  that  and  its  realization  or  promotion  are 
aimed  at.  This  remark  is  important  in  so  delicate  a  case  as  the 
determination  of  moral  principles,  where  the  slightest  misin- 
terpretation perverts  men's  minds.  For  it  will  have  been  seen 
from  the  Analytic,  that  if  we  assume  any  object  under  the  name 
of  a  good  as  a  determining  principle  of  the  will  prior  to  the  moral 
law,  and  then  deduce  from  it  the  supreme  practical  principle, 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     473 

this  would  always  introduce  heteronomy,  and  crush  out  the 
moral  principle. 

It  is,  however,  evident  that  if  the  notion  of  the  summum  bonum 
includes  that  of  the  moral  law  as  its  supreme  condition,  then 
the  summum  bonum  would  not  merely  be  an  object,  but  the  notion 
of  it  and  the  conception  of  its  existence  as  possible  by  our  own 
practical  reason,  would  likewise  be  the  determining  principle  of 
the  will,  since  in  that  case  the  will  is  in  fact  determined  by  the 
moral  law  which  is  already  included  in  this  conception,  and  by 
no  other  object,  as  the  principle  of  autonomy  requires.  This 
order  of  the  conceptions  of  determination  of  the  will  must  not 
be  lost  sight  of,  as  otherwise  we  should  misunderstand  ourselves, 
and  think  we  had  fallen  into  a  contradiction,  while  everything 
remains  in  perfect  harmony. 

CHAPTER   II.    THE   "SUMMUM   BONUM" 

The  conception  of  the  summum  itself  contains  an  ambiguity 
which  might  occasion  needless  disputes  if  we  did  not  attend  to 
it.  The  summum  may  mean  either  the  supreme  (supremum)  or 
the  perfect  (consummatum).  The  former  is  that  condition  which 
is  itself  unconditioned,  i.  e.  is  not  subordinate  to  any  other 
(originarium) ;  the  second  is  that  whole  which  is  not  a  part  of  a 
greater  whole  of  the  same  kind  (perfectissimum).  It  has  been 
shown  in  the  Analytic  that  virtue  (as  worthiness  to  be  happy) 
is  the  supreme  condition  of  all  that  can  appear  to  us  desirable, 
and  consequently  of  all  our  pursuit  of  happiness,  and  is  there- 
fore the  supreme  good.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  the  whole 
and  perfect  good  as  the  object  of  the  desires  of  rational  finite 
beings;  for  this  requires  happiness  also,  and  that  not  merely 
in  the  partial  eyes  of  the  person  who  makes  himself  an  end, 
but  even  in  the  judgment  of  an  impartial  reason,  which  regards 
persons  in  general  as  ends  in  themselves.  For  to  need  happiness, 
to  deserve  it,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  not  to  participate  in  it, 
cannot  be  consistent  with  the  perfect  volition  of  a  rational  being 
possessed  at  the  same  time  of  all  power,  if,  for  the  sake  of  experi- 
ment, we  conceive  such  a  being.  Now  inasmuch  as  virtue  and 


474  KANT 

happiness  together  constitute  the  possession  of  the  summum 
bonum  in  a  person,  and  the  distribution  of  happiness  in  exact 
proportion  to  morality  (which  is  the  worth  of  the  person,  and 
his  worthiness  to  be  happy)  constitutes  the  summum  bonum  of 
a  possible  world ;  hence  this  summum  bonum  expresses  the  whole, 
the  perfect  good,  in  which,  however,  virtue  as  the  condition  is 
always  the  supreme  good,  since  it  has  no  condition  above  it; 
whereas  happiness,  while  it  is  pleasant  to  the  possessor  of  it,  is  ' 
not  of  itself  absolutely  and  in  all  respects  good,  but  always  pre- 
supposes morally  right  behaviour  as  its  condition.  .  .  . 

I.  —  THE  ANTINOMY  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON 

In  the  summum  bonum  which  is  practical  for  us,  i.  e.  to  be 
realised  by  our  will,  virtue  and  happiness  are  thought  as  neces- 
sarily combined,  so  that  the  one  cannot  be  assumed  by  pure 
practical  reason  without  the  other  also  being  attached  to  it. 
Now  this  combination  (like  every  other)  is  either  analytical  or 
synthetical.  It  has  been  shown  that  it  cannot  be  analytical;  it 
must  then  be  synthetical,  and,  more  particularly,  must  be  con- 
ceived as  the  connexion  of  cause  and  effect,  since  it  concerns  a 
practical  good,  i.  e.  one  that  is  possible  by  means  of  action; 
consequently  either  the  desire  of  happiness  must  be  the  motive 
to  maxims  of  virtue,  or  the  maxim  of  virtue  must  be  the  efficient 
cause  of  happiness.  The  first  is  absolutely  impossible,  because 
(as  was  proved  in  the  Analytic)  maxims  which  place  the  deter- 
mining principle  of  the  will  in  the  desire  of  personal  happiness 
are  not  moral  at  all,  and  no  virtue  can  be  founded-on  them.  But 
the  second  is  also  impossible,  because  the  practical  connexion 
of  causes  and  effects  in  the  world,  as  the  result  of  the  determina- 
tion of  the  will,  does  not  depend  upon  the  moral  dispositions 
of  the  will,  but  on  the  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature  and  the 
physical  power  to  use  them  for  one's  purposes ;  consequently  we 
cannot  expect  in  the  world  by  the  most  punctilious  observance 
of  the  moral  laws  any  necessary  connexion  of  happiness  with 
virtue  adequate  to  the  summum  bonum.  Now  as  the  promotion 
of  this  summum  bonum}  the  conception  of  which  contains  this 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     475 

connexion,  is  a  priori  a  necessary  object  of  our  will,  and  in- 
separably attached  to  the  moral  law,  the  impossibility  of  the 
former  must  prove  the  falsity  of  the  latter.  If  then  the  supreme 
good  is  not  possible  by  practical  rules,  then  the  moral  law  also 
which  commands  us  to  promote  it  is  directed  to  vain  imaginary 
ends,  and  must  consequently  be  false. 


II.  —  CRITICAL  SOLUTION  OF  THE  ANTINOMY 

The  antinomy  of  pure  speculative  reason  exhibits  a  similar 
conflict  between  freedom  and  physical  necessity  in  the  causality 
of  events  in  the  world.  It  was  solved  by  showing  that  there  is 
no  real  contradiction  when  the  events  and  even  the  world  in 
which  they  occur  are  regarded  (as  they  ought  to  be)  merely  as 
appearances;  since  one  and  the  same  acting  being,  as  an  ap- 
pearance (even  to  his  own  inner  sense)  has  a  causality  in  the 
world  of  sense  that  always  conforms  to  the  mechanism  of  nature, 
but  with  respect  to  the  same  events,  so  far  as  the  acting  per- 
son regards  himself  at  the  same  time  as  a  noumenon  (as  pure 
intelligence  in  an  existence  not  dependent  on  the  condition  of 
time),  he  can  contain  a  principle  by  which  that  causality  acting 
according  to  laws  of  nature  is  determined,  but  which  is  itself 
free  from  all  laws  of  nature. 

It  is  just  the  same  with  the  foregoing  antinomy  of  pure  prac- 
tical reason.  The  first  of  the  two  propositions,  That  the  endeav- 
our after  happiness  produces  a  virtuous  mind,  is  absolutely 
jalse;  but  the  second,  That  a  virtuous  mind  necessarily  produces 
happiness,  is  not  absolutely  false,  but  only  in  so  far  as  virtue  is 
considered  as  a  form  of  causality  in  the  sensible  world,  and  con- 
sequently only  if  I  suppose  existence  in  it  to  be  the  only  sort  of 
existence  of  a  rational  being;  it  is  then  only  conditionally  false. 
But  as  I  am  not  only  justified  in  thinking  that  I  exist  also  as  a 
noumenon  in  a  world  of  the  understanding,  but  even  have  in 
the  moral  law  a  purely  intellectual  determining  principle  of  my 
causality  (in  the  sensible  world),  it  is  not  impossible  that  moral- 
lity  of  mind  should  have  a  connexion  as  cause  with  happiness 
(as  an  effect  in  the  sensible  world)  if  not  immediate  yet  mediate 


KANT 

(viz.:  through  an  intelligent  author  of  nature),  and  moreover 
necessary;  while  in  a  system  of  nature  which  is  merely  an  ob- 
ject of  the  senses  this  combination  could  never  occur  except 
contingently,  and  therefore  could  not  suffice  for  the  summum 
bonum. 

Thus,  notwithstanding  this  seeming  conflict  of  practical 
reason  with  itself,  the  summum  bonum,  which  is  the  necessary 
supreme  end  of  a  will  morally  determined,  is  a  true  object 
thereof ;  for  it  is  practically  possible,  and  the  maxims  of  the  will 
which  as  regards  their  matter  refer  to  it,  have  objective  reality, 
which  at  first  was  threatened  by  the  antinomy  that  appeared 
in  the  connexion  of  morality  with  happiness  by  a  general  law; 
but  this  was  merely  from  a  misconception,  because  the  relation 
between  appearances  was  taken  for  a  relation  of  the  things  in 
themselves  to  these  appearances. 


IV.  —  THE  IMMORTALITY  or  THE  SOUL  AS  A  POSTULATE  OF 
PURE  PRACTICAL  REASON 

The  realization  of  the  summum  bonum  in  the  world  is  the 
necessary  object  of  a  will  determinable  by  the  moral  law.  But 
in  this  will  the  perfect  accordance  of  the  mind  with  the  moral 
law  is  the  supreme  condition  of  the  summum  bonum.  This  then 
must  be  possible,  as  well  as  its  object,  since  it  is  contained  in 
the  command  to  promote  the  latter.  Now,  the  perfect  accord- 
ance of  the  will  with  the  moral  law  is  holiness,  a  perfection  of 
which  no  rational  being  of  the  sensible  world  is  capable  at  any 
moment  of  his  existence.  Since,  nevertheless,  it  is  required  as 
practically  necessary,  it  can  only  be  found  in  a  progress  in  in- 
finitum  towards  that  perfect  accordance,  and  on  the  principles 
of  pure  practical  reason  it  is  necessary  to  assume  such  a  prac- 
tical progress  as  the  real  object  of  our  will. 

Now,  this  endless  progress  is  only  possibk  on  the  supposition 
of  an  endless  duration  of  the  existence  and  personality  of  the 
same  rational  being  (which  is  called  the  immortality  of  the  soul). 
The  summum  bonum,  then,  practically  is  only  possible  on  the 
supposition  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul;  consequently  this 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     477 

immortality,  being  inseparably  connected  with  the  moral  law, 
is  a  postulate  of  pure  practical  reason  (by  which  I  mean  a  theo- 
retical proposition,  not  demonstrable  as  such,  but  which  is  an 
inseparable  result  of  an  unconditional  a  priori  practical  law). 

This  principle  of  the  moral  destination  of  our  nature,  namely, 
that  it  is  only  in  an  endless  progress  that  we  can  attain  perfect 
accordance  with  the  moral  law,  is  of  the  greatest  use,  not  merely 
for  the  present  purpose  of  supplementing  the  impotence  of  specu- 
lative reason,  but  also  with  respect  to  religion.  In  default  of  it, 
either  the  moral  law  is  quite  degraded  from  its  holiness,  being 
made  out  to  be  indulgent,  and  conformable  to  our  convenience, 
or  else  men  strain  their  notions  of  their  vocation  and  their  ex- 
pectation to  an  unattainable  goal,  hoping  to  acquire  complete 
holiness  of  will,  and  so  they  lose  themselves  in  fanatical  theo- 
sophic  dreams,  which  wholly  contradict  self-knowledge.  In  both 
cases  the  unceasing  effort  to  obey  punctually  and  thoroughly  a 
strict  and  inflexible  command  of  reason,  which  yet  is  not  ideal 
but  real,  is  only  hindered.  For  a  rational  but  finite  being,  the 
only  thing  possible  is  an  endless  progress  from  the  lower  to 
higher  degrees  of  moral  perfection.  The  In-finite  Bejng,  to  whom  * 
the  condition  of  time  is  nothing,  sees  in  this  to  us  endless  succes- 
sion a  whole  of  accordance  with  the  moral  law ;  and  the  holiness 
which  His  command  inexorably  requires,  in  order  to  be  true  to 
His  justice  in  the  share  which  He  assigns  to  each  in  the  summum  { 
bonum,  is  to  be  found  in  a  single  intellectual  intuition  of  the 
whole  existence  of  rational  beings.  All  that  can  be  expected  of 
the  creature  in  respect  of  the  hope  of  this  participation  would 
be  the  consciousness  of  his  tried  character,  by  which,  from  the 
progress  he  has  hitherto  made  from  the  worse  to  the  morally 
better,  and  the  immutability  of  purpose  which  has  thus  become 
known  to  him,  he  may  hope  for  a  further  unbroken  continuance 
of  the  same,  however  long  his  existence  may  last,  even  beyond 
this  life,  and  thus  he  may  hope,  not  indeed  here,  nor  at  any 
imaginable  point  of  his  future  existence,  but  only  in  the  endless- 
ness of  his  duration  (which  God  alone  can  survey)  to  be  per- 
fectly adequate  to  his  will  (without  indulgence  or  excuse,  which 
do  not  harmonize  with  justice). 


478  KANT 

V.  —  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  GOD  AS  A  POSTULATE  OF  PURE 
PRACTICAL  REASON. 

In  the  foregoing  analysis  the  moral  law  led  to  a  practical 
problem  which  is  prescribed  by  pure  reason  alone,  without  the 
aid  of  any  sensible  motives,  namely,  that  of  the  necessary  com- 
pleteness of  the  first  and  principal  element  of  the  summum 
bonum,  viz.  Morality;  and  as  this  can  be  perfectly  solved  only 
in  eternity,  to  the  postulate  of  immortality.  The  same  law  must 
also  lead  us  to  affirm  the  possibility  of  the  second  element  of 
the  summum  bonum,  viz.  Happiness  proportioned  to  that  moral- 
ity, and  this  on  grounds  as  disinterested  as  before,  and  solely 
from  impartial  reason ;  that  is,  it  must  lead  to  the  supposition  of 
the  existence  of  a  cause  adequate  to  this  effect ;  in  other  words, 
it  must  postulate  the  existence  of  God,  as  the  necessary  condition 
of  the  possibility  of  the  summum  bonum  (an  object  of  the  will 
which  is  necessarily  connected  with  the  moral  legislation  of  pure 
reason).  We  proceed  to  exhibit  this  connexion  in  a  convincing 
manner. 

Happiness  is  the  condition  of  a  rational  being  in  the  world 
with  whom  everything  goes  according  to  his  wish  and  will ;  it  rests, 
therefore,  on  the  harmony  of  physical  nature  with  his  whole 
end,  and  likewise  with  the  essential  determining  principle  of 
his  will.  Now  the  moral  law  as  a  law  of  freedom  commands 
by  determining  principles,  which  ought  to  be  quite  independ- 
ent on  nature  and  on  its  harmony  with  our  faculty  of  desire 
(as  springs).  But  the  acting  rational  being  in  the  world  is  not 
the  cause  of  the  world  and  of  nature  itself.  There  is  not  the 
least  ground,  therefore,  in  the  moral  law  for  a  necessary  con- 
nexion between  morality  and  proportionate  happiness  in  a  being 
that  belongs  to  the  world  as  part  of  it,  and  therefore  dependent 
on  it,  and  which  for  that  reason  cannot  by  his  will  be  a  cause 
of  this  nature,  nor  by  his  own  power  make  it  thoroughly  har- 
monize, as  far  as  his  happiness  is  concerned,  with  his  practical 
principles.  Nevertheless,  in  the  practical  problem  of  pure  rea- 
son, i.  e.  the  necessary  pursuit  of  the  summum  bonum,  such  a 
connexion  is  postulated  as  necessary :  we  ought  to  endeavour 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     479 

to  promote  the  summum  bonum,  which,  therefore,  must  be  pos- 
sible. Accordingly,  the  existence  of  a  cause  of  all  nature,  distinct 
from  nature  itself,  and  containing  the  principle  of  this  connexion, 
namely,  of  the  exact  harmony  of  happiness  with  morality,  is 
also  postulated.  Now,  this  supreme  cause  must  contain  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  harmony  of  nature,  not  merely  with  a  law  of  the  will 
of  rational  beings,  but  with  the  conception  of  this  law,  in  so  far 
as  they  make  it  the  supreme  determining  principle  of  the  will, 
and  consequently  not  merely  with  the  form  of  morals,  but  with 
their  morality  as  their  motive,  that  is,  with  their  moral  character. 
Therefore,  the  summum  bonum  is  possible  in  the  world  only  on 
the  supposition  of  a  supreme  Being  having  a  causality  corre- 
sponding to  moral  character.  Now  a  being  that  is  capable  of 
acting  on  the  conception  of  laws  is  an  intelligence  (a  rational 
being),  and  the  causality  of  such  a  being  according  to  this  con- 
ception of  laws  is  his  will ;  therefore  the  supreme  cause  of  nature, 
which  must  be  presupposed  as  a  condition  of  the  summum 
bonum,  is  a  being  which  is  the  cause  of  nature  by  intelligence  and 
will,  consequently  its  author,  that  is  God.  It  follows  that  the 
postulate  of  the  possibility  of  the  highest  derived  good  (the  best 
world)  is  likewise  the  postulate  of  the  reality  of  a  highest  original 
good,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  existence  of  God.  Now  it  was  seen 
to  be  a  duty  for  us  to  promote  the  summum  bonum ;  consequently 
it  is  not  merely  allowable,  but  it  is  a  necessity  connected  with 
duty  as  a  requisite,  that  we  should  presuppose  the  possibility  of 
this  summum  bonum;  and  as  this  is  possible  only  on  condition 
of  the  existence  of  God,  it  inseparably  connects  the  supposition 
of  this  with  duty ;  that  is,  it  is  morally  necessary  to  assume  the 
existence  of  God. 


VI.  —  THE  POSTULATES  OF  PURE  PRACTICAL  REASON 

They  all  proceed  from  the  principle  of  morality,  which  is  not 
a  postulate  but  a  law,  by  which  reason  determines  the  will 
directly,  which  will,  because  it  is  so  determined  as  a  pure  will, 
requires  these  necessary  conditions  of  obedience  to  its  precept. 
These  postulates  are  not  theoretical  dogmas,  but  suppositions 


480  KANT 

practically  necessary;  while  then  they  do  [not]  extend  our 
speculative  knowledge,  they  give  objective  reality  to  the  ideas 
of  speculative  reason  in  general  (by  means  of  their  reference  to 
what  is  practical),  and  give  it  a  right  to  concepts,  the  possibility 
even  of  which  it  could  not  otherwise  venture  to  affirm. 

These  postulates  are  those  of  immortality,  freedom  positively 
considered  (as  the  causality  of  a  being  so  far  as  he  belongs  to 
the  intelligible  world),  and  the  existence  oj  God.  The  first  results 
from  the  practically  necessary  condition  of  a  duration  adequate 
to  the  complete  fulfilment  of  the  moral  law;  the  second  from 
the  necessary  supposition  of  independence  on  the  sensible  world, 
and  of  the  faculty  of  determining  one's  will  according  to  the  law 
of  an  intelligible  world,  that  is,  of  freedom ;  the  third  from  the 
necessary  condition  of  the  existence  of  the  summum  bonum  in 
such  an  intelligible  world,  by  the  supposition  of  the  supreme 
independent  good,  that  is,  the  existence  of  God. 

Thus  the  fact  that  respect  for  the  moral  law  necessarily  makes 
the  summum  bonum  an  object  of  our  endeavours,  and  the. sup- 
position thence  resulting  of  its  objective  reality,  lead  through 
the  postulates  of  practical  reason  to  conceptions  which  specu- 
lative reason  might  indeed  present  as  problems,  but  could  never 
solve.  Thus  it  leads  —  i.  To  that  one  in  the  solution  of  which 
the  latter  could  do  nothing  but  commit  paralogisms  (namely, 
that  of  immortality),  because  it  could  not  lay  hold  of  the  char- 
acter of  permanence,  by  which  to  complete  the  psychological 
conception  of  an  ultimate  subject  necessarily  ascribed  to  the 
soul  in  self -consciousness,  so  as  to  make  it  the  real  conception 
of  a  substance,  a  character  which  practical  reason  furnishes  by 
the  postulate  of  a  duration  required  for  accordance  with  the 
moral  law  in  the  summum  bonum,  which  is  the  whole  end  of 
practical  reason.  2.  It  leads  to  that  of  which  speculative  reason 
contained  nothing  but  antinomy,  the  solution  of  which  it  could 
only  found  on  a  notion  problematically  conceivable  indeed,  but 
whose  objective  reality  it  could  not  prove  or  determine,  namely, 
the  cosmological  idea  of  an.  intelligible  world  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  our  existence  in  it,  by  means  of  the  postulate  of  freedom 
(the  reality  of  which  it  lays  down  by  virtue  of  the  moral  law), 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     481 

and  with  it  likewise  the  law  of  an  intelligible  world,  to  which 
speculative  reason  could  only  point,  but  could  not  define  its 
conception.  3.  What  speculative  reason  was  able  to  think,  but 
was  obliged  to  leave  undetermined  as  a  mere  transcendental 
ideal,  viz.  the  theological  conception  of  the  first  Being,  to  this 
it  gives  significance  (in  a  practical  view,  that  is,  as  a  condition 
of  the  possibility  of  the  object  of  a  will  determined  by  that  law), 
namely,  as  the  supreme  principle  of  the  summum  bonum  in  an 
intelligible  world,  by  means  of  moral  legislation  in  it  invested 
with  sovereign  power. 

Is  our  knowledge,  however,  actually  extended  in  this  way  by 
pure  practical  reason,  and  is  that  immanent  in  practical  reason 
which  for  the  speculative  was  only  transcendent  ?  Certainly,  but 
only  in  a  practical  point  of  view.  For  we  do  not  thereby  take 
knowledge  of  the-  nature  of  our  souls,  nor  of  the  intelligible 
world,  nor  of  the  Supreme  Being,  with  respect  to  what  they  are 
in  themselves,  but  we  have  merely  combined  the  conceptions 
of  them  in  the  practical  concept  of  the  summum  bonum  as  the 
object  of  our  will,  and  this  altogether  a  priori,  but  only  by  means 
of  the  moral  law,  and  merely  in  reference  to  it,  in  respect  of  the 
object  which  it  commands.  But  how  freedom  is  possible,  and 
how  we  are  to  conceive  this  kind  of  causality  theoretically  and 
positively,  is  not  thereby  discovered ;  but  only  that  there  is  such 
a  causality  is  postulated  by  the  moral  law  and  in  its  behoof.  It 
is  the  same  with  the  remaining  ideas,  the  possibility  of  which 
no  human  intelligence  will  ever  fathom,  but  the  truth  of  which, 
on  the  other  hand,  no  sophistry  will  ever  wrest  from  the  con- 
viction even  of  the  commonest  man. 


VII.  —  How  is  IT  POSSIBLE  TO  CONCEIVE  AN  EXTENSION  OF 
PURE  REASON  IN  A  PRACTICAL  POINT  OF  VIEW,  WITHOUT 
ITS  KNOWLEDGE  AS  SPECULATIVE  BEING  ENLARGED  AT 
TH£  SAME  TIME? 

In  .order  not  to  be  too  abstract,  we  will  answer  this  question 
at  once  in  its  application  to  the  present  case.  In  order  to  extend 
a  pure  cognition  practically,  there  must  be  an  a  priori  purpose 


482  KANT 

given,  that  is,  an  end  as  object  (of  the  will),  which  independently 
on  all  theological  principle  is  presented  as  practically  necessary 
by  an  imperative  which  determines  the  will  directly  (a  categorical 
imperative), -and  in  this  case  that  is  the  summum  bonum.  This, 
however,  is  not  possible  without  ^re-supposing  three  theoretical 
conceptions  (for  which,  because  they  are  mere  conceptions  of 
pure  reason,  no  corresponding  intuition  can  be  found,  nor  con- 
sequently by  the  path  of  theory  any  objective  reality) ;  namely, 
freedom,  immortality,  and  God.  Thus  by  the  practical  law 
which  commands  the  existence  of  the  highest  good  possible  in 
a  world,  the  possibility  of  those  objects  of  pure  speculative 
reason  is  postulated,  and  the  objective  reality  which  the  latter 
could  not  assure  them.  By  this  the  theoretical  knowledge  of 
pure  reason  does  indeed  obtain  an  accession ;  but  it  consists  only 
in  this,  that  those  concepts  which  otherwise  it  had  to  look  upon 
as  problematical  (merely  thinkable)  concepts,  are  now  shown 
assertorially  to  be  such  as  actually  have  objects;  because  prac- 
tical reason  indispensably  requires  their  existence  for  the  pos- 
sibility of  its  object,  the  summum  bonum,  which  practically  is 
absolutely  necessary,  and  this  justifies  theoretical  reason  in 
assuming  them.  But  this  extension  of  theoretical  reason  is 
no  extension  of  speculative,  that  is,  we  cannot  make  any  pos- 
itive use  of  it  in  a  theoretical  point  of  view.  .  .  .  The  above 
three  ideas  of  speculative  reason  are  still  in  themselves  not 
cognitions ;  they  are  however  (transcendent)  thoughts,  in  which 
there  is  nothing  impossible.  Now,  by  help  of  an  apodictic 
practical  law,  being  necessary  conditions  of  that  which  it  com- 
mands to  be  made  an  object,  they  acquire  objective  reality:  that 
is,  we  learn  from  it  that  they  have  objects,  without  being  able 
to  point  out  how  the  conception  of  them  is  related  to  an  object, 
and  "this,  too,  is  still  not  a  cognition  of  these  objects;  for  we 
cannot  thereby  form  any  synthetical  judgment  about  them,  nor 
determine  their  application  theoretically;  consequent!} 
make  no  theoretical  rational  use  of  them  at  all,  in  which  use 
all  speculative  knowledge  of  reason  consists.  Nevertheless,  the 
theoretical  knowledge,  not  indeed  of  these  objects,  but  of  rea- 
son generally,  is  so  far  enlarged  by  this,  that  by  the  practical 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     483 

postulates  objects  were  given  to  those  ideas,  a  merely  problem- 
atical thought  having  by  this  means  first  acquired  objective 
reality.  There  is  therefore  no  extension  of  the  knowledge  of 
given  supersensible  objects,  but  an  extension  of  theoretical 
reason  and  of  its  knowledge  in  respect  of  the  supersensible 
generally;  inasmuch  as  it  is  compelled  to  admit  that  there 
are  such  objects,  although  it  is  not  able  to  define  them  more 
closely,  so  as  itself  to  extend  this  knowledge  of  the  objects  (which 
have  now  been  given  it  on  practical  grounds,  and  only  for  prac- 
tical use).  For  this  accession,  then,  pure  theoretical  reason,  for 
which  all  those  ideas  are  transcendent  and  without  object,  has 
simply  to  thank  its  practical  faculty.  In  this  they  become  im- 
manent and  constitutive,  being  the  source  of  the  possibility  of 
realising  the  necessary  object  of  pure  practical  reason  (the  sum- 
mum  bonum)',  whereas  apart  from  this  they  are  transcendent, 
and  merely  regulative  principles  of  speculative  reason,  which 
do  not  require  it  to  assume  a  new  object  beyond  experience, 
but  only  to  bring  its  use  in  experience  nearer  to  completeness. 
But  when  once  reason  is  in  possession  of  this  accession,  it  will 
go  to  work  with  these  ideas  as  speculative  reason  (properly  only 
to  assure  the  certainty  of  its  practical  use)  in  a  negative  manner: 
that  is,  not  extending  but  clearing  up  its  knowledge  so  as  on  one 
side  to  keep  off  anthropomorphism,  as  the  source  of  superstition, 
or  seeming  extension  of  these  conceptions  by  supposed  expe- 
rience; and  on  the  other  side  fanaticism,  which  promises  the 
same  by  means  of  supersensible  intuition  or  feelings  of  the  like 
kind.  .  .  . 

When  these  ideas  of  God,  of  an  intelligible  world  (the  king- 
dom of  God),  and  of  immortality  are  further  determined  by 
predicates  taken  from  our  own  nature,  we  must  not  regard  this 
determination  as  a  sensualising  of  those  pure  rational  ideas 
(anthropomorphism),  nor  as  a  transcendent  knowledge  of  super- 
sensible objects;  for  these  predicates  are  no  others  than  under- 
standing and  will,  considered  too  in  the  relation  to  each  other 
in  which  they  must  be  conceived  in  the  moral  law,  and  there- 
fore only  so  far  as  a  pure  practical  use  is  made  of  them.  As  to 


484  KANT 

all  the  rest  that  belongs  to  these  conceptions  psychologically, 
that  is,  so  far  as  we  observe  these  faculties  of  ours  empirically 
in  their  exercise  (e.  g.  that  the  understanding  of  man  is  discur- 
sive, and  its  notions  therefore  not  intuitions  but  thoughts,  that 
these  follow  one  another  in  time,  that  his  will  has  its  satisfaction 
always  dependent  on  the  existence  of  its  object,  &c.,  which 
cannot  be  the  case  in  the  Supreme  Being),  from  all  this  we 
abstract  in  that  case,  and  then  there  remains  of  the  notions  by 
which  we  conceive  a  pure  intelligence  nothing  more  than  just 
what  is  required  for  the  possibility  of  conceiving  a  moral  law. 
There  is  then  a  knowledge  of  God  indeed,  but  only  for  practical 
purposes,  and  if  we  attempt  to  extend  it  'to  a  theoretical  know- 
ledge we  find  an  understanding  that  has  intuitions,  not  thoughts, 
a  will  that  is  directed  to  objects  on  the  existence  of  which  its 
satisfaction  does  not  in  the  least  depend  (not  to  mention  the 
transcendental  predicates,  as,  for  example,  a  magnitude  of  exist- 
ence, that  is  duration,  which,  however,  is  not  in  time,  the  only 
possible  means  we  have  of  conceiving  existence  as  magnitude). 
Now  these  are  all  attributes  of  which  we  can  form  no  conception 
that  would  help  to  the  knowledge  of  the  object,  and  we  learn 
from  this  that  they  can  never  be  used  for  a  theory  of  super- 
sensible beings,  so  that  on  this  side  they  are  quite  incapable 
of  being  the  foundation  of  a  speculative  knowledge,  and  their 
use  is  limited  simply  to  the  practice  of  the  moral  law. 


VIII.  —  OF  BELIEF  FROM  A  REQUIREMENT  OF  PURE  REASON 

A  want  of  requirement  of  pure  reason  in  its  speculative  use 
leads  only  to  a  hypothesis;  that  of  pure  practical  reason  to  a 
postulate;  for  in  the  former  case  I  ascend  from  the  result  as  high 
as  I  please  in  the  series  of  causes,  not  in  order  to  give  objective 
reality  to  the  result  (e.  g.  the  causal  connexion  of  things  and 
changes  in  the  world),  but  in  order  thoroughly  to  satisfy  my 
inquiring  reason  in  respect  of  it.  Thus  I  see  before  me  order 
and  design  in  nature,  and  need  not  resort  to  speculation  to  assure 
myself  of  their  reality,  but  to  explain  them  I  have  to  pre-suppose 


CRITIQUE  OF  PRACTICAL  REASON     485 

a  Deity  as  their  cause;  and  then  since  the  inference  from  an 
effect  to  a  definite  cause  is  always  uncertain  and  doubtful, 
especially  to  a  cause  so  precise  and  so  perfectly  defined  as  we 
have  to  conceive  in  God,  hence  the  highest  degree  of  certainty 
to  which  this  pre-supposition  can  be  brought  is,  that  it  is  the 
most  rational  opinion  for  us  men.  On  the  other  hand,  a  re- 
quirement of  pure  practical  reason  is  based  on  a  duty,  that  of 
making  something  (the  summum  bonum)  the  object  of  my  will 
so  as  to  promote  it  with  all  my  powers;  in  which  case  I  must 
suppose  its  possibility,  and  consequently  also  the  conditions 
necessary  thereto,  namely,  God,  freedom,  and  immortality ;  since 
I  cannot  prove  these  by  my  speculative  reason,  although  neither 
can  I  refute  them.  This  duty  is  founded  on  something  that  is 
indeed  quite  independent  on  these  suppositions,  and  is  of  itself 
apodictically  certain,  namely,  the  moral  law ;  and  so  far  it  needs 
no  further  support  by  theoretical  views  as  to  the  inner  constitu- 
tion of  things,  the  secret  final  aim  of  the  order  of  the  world,  or  a 
presiding  ruler  thereof,  in  order  to  bind  me  in  the  most  perfect 
manner  to  act  in  unconditional  conformity  to  the  law.  But  the 
subjective  effect  of  this  law,  namely,  the  mental  disposition  con- 
formed to  it  and  made  necessary  by  it,  to  promote  the  practically 
possible  summum  bonum,  this  pre-supposes  at  least  that  the  latter 
is  possible,  for  it  would  be  practically  impossible  to  strive  after 
the  object  of  a  conception  which  at  bottom  was  empty  and  had 
no  object.  .  .  . 

Now  since  the  promotion  of  this  summum  bonum,  and  there- 
fore the  supposition  of  its  possibility,  are  objectively  necessary 
(though  only  as  a  result  of  practical  reason),  while  at  the  same 
time  the  manner  in  which  we  would  conceive  it  rests  with  our 
own  choice,  and  in  this  choice  a  free  interest  of  pure  practical 
reason  decides  for  the  assumption  of  a  wise  Author  of  the  world ; 
it  is  clear  that  the  principle  that  herein  determines  our  judgment, 
though  as  a  want  it  is  subjective,  yet  at  the  same  time  being  the 
means  of  promoting  what  is  objectively  (practically)  necessary, 
is  the  foundation  of  a  maxim  of  belief  in  a  moral  point  of  view, 
that  is,  a  faith  oj  pure  practical  reason. 


JOHANN   GOTTLIEB  FIGHTE 

(1762-1814) 

FIRST   INTRODUCTION   INTO    THE    SCIENCE 
OF   KNOWLEDGE 

Translated  from  the  German  *  by 
BENJAMIN    RAND 

I. 

ATTEND  to  thyself ;  turn  thy  glance  away  from  all  that  surrounds 
thee  and  upon  thine  own  innermost  self.  Such  is  the  first  demand 
which  philosophy  makes  of  its  disciples.  We  speak  of  nothing 
that  is  without  thee,  but  wholly  of  thyself. 

In  the  most  fleeting  self-observation  every  one*  must  perceive 
a  marked  difference  between  the  various  immediate  determina- 
tions of  his  consciousness,  which  we  may  also  call  representations. 
Some  of  them  appear  entirely  dependent  upon  our  freedom,  and 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  believe  that  there  is  anything  without  us 
corresponding  to  them.  Our  imagination,  our  will,  appears  to 
us  as  free.  Others,  however,  we  refer  to  a  truth,  as  their  model, 
which  is  held  to  be  established,  independent  of  us;  and  in  the 
attempt  to  determine  such  representations,  we  find  ourselves 
conditioned  by  the  necessity  of  their  harmony  with  this  truth. 
In  the  knowledge  of  their  contents  we  do  not  consider  ourselves 
free.  In  brief,  we  can  say,  some  of  our  representations  are  ac- 
companied by  the  feeling  of  freedom,  others  by  the  feeling  of 
necessity. 

The  question  cannot  reasonably  arise :  Why  are  the  represen- 
tations, which  are  directly  dependent  upon  our  freedom,  deter- 
mined in  precisely  this  manner  and  not  othe**wise2.  For 'when 
it  is  affirmed  that  they  are  dependent  upon  our  freedom^  all 
application  of  the  conception  of  a  ground  is  dismissedV  they 

*  From  Erste  Einleitung  in  die  Wissenschajtslehre  in  Philosophisches  Jour- 
nal, Bd.  v,  1797,  pp.  1-47;  id.,  Sammtlithe  Werke,  Berlin,  1845,  i,  pp.  422- 
436. 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE         487 

are  thus,  because  I  have  so  determined  them,  and  if  I  had  de- 
termined them  otherwise,  then  they  would  be  different.  But  it 
is  certainly  a  question  worthy  of  reflection :  What  is  the  ground 
of  .the  system  of  those  representations  which  are  accompanied 
by  the  feelings  of  necessity  and  of  that  feeling  of  necessity  itself  ? 
To  answer  this  question  is  the  task  of  philosophy;  and,  in  my 
opinion,  nothing  is  philosophy  but  the  science  which  solves  this 
problem.  The  system  of  those  representations  which  are  ac- 
companied by  the  feeling  of  necessity  is  also  called  experience: 
internal  as  well  as  external  experience.  Philosophy  has  there- 
fore —  to  express  the  same  thing  in  other  words  —  to  discover 
the  ground  of  all  experience. 

Only  three  distinct  objections  can  be  raised  against  what  has 
here  been  stated.  Some  one  might  deny  that  representations,  ac- 
companied by  the  feeling  of  necessity,  and  referred  to  a  truth 
determined  without  our  aid,  are  ever  present  in  our  conscious- 
ness. Such  a  person  would  either  make  the  denial  against  better 
knowledge  or  be  differently  constituted  from  other  men.  In  the 
latter  case  there  would  also  be  nothing  for  him  that  he  denied, 
and  hence  no  denial.  We  could  therefore  dismiss  his  protest 
without  further  ceremony.  Or  some  one  might  say :  the  question 
raised  is  entirely  unanswerable,  we  are  and  must  remain  in  in- 
superable ignorance  concerning  it.  To  enter  upon  an  argument 
with  such  a  person  is  wholly  superfluous.  He  is  best  refuted  by 
an  actual  answer  to  the  question ;  then  all  he  can  do  is  to  test  our 
attempt  and  to  state  where  and  why  it  appears  to  him  insuffi- 
cient. Finally,  some  one  might  dispute  about  the  designation, 
and  assert :  Philosophy  is  something  else,  or  at  least  something 
more,  than  what  you  have  above  stated.  It  might  easily  be  proved 
to  such  a  one,  that  scholars  have  at  all  times  regarded  exactly 
what  has  here  been  stated,  to  be  philosophy,  and  that  whatever 
else  he  might  set  up  for  it  has  already  another  name ;  that  if  this 
word  is  to  signify  anything  at  all,  it  must  mean  precisely  this 
particular  science. 

Since,  however,  we  are  unwilling  to  enter  upon  any  unfruit- 
ful controversy  about  words,  we  have  on  our  part  already  aban- 
doned the  name  of  philosophy,  and  have  called  the  science  which 


488  FICHTE 

has,  properly  speaking,  the  solution  of  the  problem  here  indi- 
cated for  its  object,  the  Science  oj  Knowledge. 

/ 

Only  when  speaking  of  something  regarded  as  accidental, 
that  is,  which  we  suppose  might  also  have  been  otherwise, 
though  it  was  not  determined  by  freedom,  can  we  inquire  con- 
cerning a  ground.  And  precisely  because  of  this  asking  concern- 
ing its  ground  does  it  become  accidental  to  the  inquirer.  The 
problem  involved  in  seeking  the  ground  of  anything  means 
to  find  something  else,  from  the  special  nature  of  which  it  can 
be  seen  why  the  accidental,  among  the  manifold  determina- 
tions which  might  have  come  to  it,  assumed  .precisely  the  one  it 
did.  The  ground  lies,  by  virtue  of  the  mere  thought  of  a  ground, 
outside  of  that  which  is  grounded ;  and  both  are,  in  so  far  as  they 
are  the  ground  and  the  grounded,  opposed  to  each  other,  re- 
lated to  each  other,  and  thus  the  latter  is  explained  from  the 
former. 

Now  philosophy  seeks  to  discover  the  ground  of  all  experi- 
ence; hence  its  object  lies  necessarily  beyond  all  experience. 
This  proposition  applies  to  all  philosophy,  and  has  also  actually 
been  so  applied,  down  to  the  period  of  the  Kantians  and  their 
facts  of  consciousness,  that  is,  of  inner  experience. 

No  objection  can  be  raised  against  the  proposition  here  set 
forth ;  for  the  premise  to  our  conclusion  is  a  mere  analysis  of  the 
above-stated  conception  of  philosophy  and  from  it  the  conclu- 
sion is  drawn.  If  some  one  possibly  should  remind  us  that  the 
conception  of  a  ground  must  be  differently  explained,  we  cer- 
tainly could  not  prevent  him  from  forming  another  conception 
of  it  if  he  chooses ;  but  we  affirm  with  equal  right,  that  in  the 
above  description  of  philosophy  we  wish  nothing  else  to  be  un- 
derstood by  that  word  but  what  has  been  stated.  Hence,  if  this 
meaning  is  not  permitted,  the  possibility  of  philosophy,  as  we 
have  described  it,  must  be  altogether  denied;  and  to  such  a 
denial  we  have  already  made  reply  in  our  first  section. 

3- 

The  finite  intelligence  has  nothing  outside  of  experience.  This 
it  is  that  yields  the  entire  material  of  its  thinking.  The  philoso- 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE      '  489 

pher  is  subject  necessarily  to  similar  conditions,  and  hence  it  ap- 
pears inconceivable  how  he  can .  raise  himself  above  experience. 

J*ut  hg_can  abstract;: that  is  to  say,  he  can  separate  by  the 
freedom  of  thinking  what  is  united  in  experience.  In  expedience, 
the  thing,  or,  that  which  is  to  be  determined  independently  of 
our  freedom  and  in  accordance  with  which  our  knowledge  is  to 
shape  itself,  and  the  intelligence,  or  that  which  is  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  it,  are  inseparably  united.  The  philosopher  may 
abstract  from  both,  and  if  he  does,  he  has  abstracted  from  experi- 
ence and  lifted  himself  above  it.  If  he  abstracts  from  the  first, 
he  retains  an  intelligence  in  itself,  that  is,  abstracted  from  its  re- 
lation to  experience ;  if  he  abstracts  from  the  latter,  he  retains  the 
thing  in  itselj,  that  is,  abstracted  from  the  fact  that  it  occurs  in 
experience.  He  thus  retains  either  the  intelligence  in  itself,  or  the 
thing- in-itself,  as  the  ground  of  explanation  of  experience.  The 
former  mode  of  procedure  is  called  Idealism,  the  latter  Dogmatism. 

Only  these  two  philosophical  systems  (and  of  that  these  re- 
marks should  convince  everybody)  are  possible.  According  to 
the  first  system,  the  representations  which  are  accompanied  ^y 
the  feeling  of  necessity  are  products  of  the  intelligence,  wmch 
must  be  presupposed  in  their  explanation ;  according  to  the  latter 
system  they  are  products  of  a  thing  in  itself,  which  must  be  pre- 
supposed to  explain  them.  If  any  one  desired  to  dispute  this 
position,  he  would  have  to  prove  either  that  there  is  still  an- 
other way  to  transcend  ^xperience  than  by  means  of  abstraction, 
or  that  there  exiafHn  the  consciousness  of  experience  more  than 
the  two  components  just  mentioned.  Now,  in  regard  to  the  first, 
it  will  appear  below  that  what  we  have  here  called  intelligence  is 
actually  present  under  another  name  in  consciousness,  and  there- 
fore is  not  something  entirely  produced  by  abstraction ;  but  it  will 
at  the  same  time  be  shown  that  the  consciousness  of  it  is  condi- 
tioned by  an  abstraction,  which  is  wholly  natural  to  mankind. 

It  will  not  be  denied  that  it  is  possible  to  frame  an  entire  sys- 
tem from  fragments  of  these  dissimilar  systems,  and  that  this 
illogical  labor  has  actually  very  often  been  undertaken;  but  it 
is  denied  that  more  than  these  two  systems  are  possible  in  any 
logical  mode  of  procedure. 


4QO  FICHTE 

4. 

Between  the  object  (we  shall  call  the  explanatory  ground  of 
experience  affirmed  by  a  philosophy  the  object  of  that  philosophy, 
since  it  appears  to  be  only  through  and  for  such  philosophy) 
of  idealism  and  that  of  dogmatism  there  is  a  remarkable  distinc- 
tion in  reference  to  their  relation  to  consciousness.  Everything  of 
which  I  am  conscious  is  called  object  of  consciousness.  There 
are  three  ways  in  which  the  object  can  be  related  to  consciousness. 
Either  the  object  appears  to  have  been  produced  by  the  repre- 
sentation, or  as  existing  without  its  aid ;  pud  in  the  latter  case, 
either  also  as  determined  in  regard  to  its  strucjure^  or  as  present 
merely  with  respect  to  its  existence,  but  deterrrfnable  in  regard 
to  its  structure  by  the  free  intelligence. 

The  first  relation  applies  merely  to  an  imaginary  object, 
whether  with  or  without  purpose ;  the  second  applies  to  an  object 
of  experience ;  and  the  third  applies  only  to  an  object,  which  we 
shall  forthwith  describe. 

I  can  determine  myself  by  freedom  to  think  this  or  that ;  for 
example,  the  thing-in-itself  of  the  dogmatist*  Now  if  I  abstract 
from  the  thought  and  look  simply  upon  myself,  then  I  myself 
become  the  object  of  a  particular  representation;  That  I  appear 
to  myself  as  determined  in  precisely  this  manner  and  not  oth- 
erwise, e.  g.,  ;  thinking,  and  among  all  possible  thoughts  as 
thinking  JUST  ic  thing-in-itself,  is  in  my  opinion  to  depend  upon 
my  freedom  £  self-determination :  I  have  made  myself  such  an 
object  of  nv  own  free  will.  I  have  not,  however,  made  myself, 
but  I  am  compelled  to  presuppose  myself  as  determinable  through 
this  self-determination^  I  am  therelfere  myself  my  own  object, 
the  determinate  character  of  which  depends  under  certain  con- 
ditions altogether  upon  intelligence*  but  the  existence  of  which 
must  always  be  presupposed.  // 

Now  this  very  I  in  itself  is  the  object  of  Idealism.  The  object 
of  this  system  does  not  occur  actually  as  something  real  in  con- 
sciousness, as  a  thing  in  itself,  —  for  then  idealism  would  cease 
to  be  what  it  is,  and  would  be  transformed  into  dogmatism,  — 
but  it  does  appear  as  I  in  itself.  It  occurs  not  as  object  of  expe- 
rience, —  for  it  is  not  determined,  b"t  is 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        491 

through  me,  and,  without  this  determination  &-wouM-ba4iothing. 
atjtll,  —  but  it  appears  as  something  raiser!  above  all  experience.^ 

The  object  of  dogmatism,  on  the  contrary,  belongs  to  the  ob- 
jects of  the  first  class,  which  are  produced  wholly  by  free  think-/ 
ing.  The  thing-in-itself  is  a  mere  invention,  and  has  no  reality; 
at  all.  It  does  not  occur  in  experience,  for  the  system  of  expe- 
rience  is  nojthing^else  than_thinking  accompanied  by  the  feel- 
ing of  necessity ;  it  cannot  even  be  pretended  to  be  anything 
eke  by  the  dogmatist,  who,  like  every  philosopher,  has  to  give 
an  explanation  of  it.  The  dogmatist,  indeed,  desires  to  assure 
reality  to  it,  through  the  necessity  of  thinking  it  as  the  ground 
of  all  experience;  and  he  would  succeed,  if  he  could  prove  that 
experience  thereby  can  be,  and  can  thereby  only  be  explained. 
But  this  is  the  very  question  in  dispute,  and  he  cannot  presup- 
pose what  must  first  be  proved. 

The  object  of  idealism  thus  has  the  advantage  over  that  of 
dogmatism,  inasmuch  as  it  is  not  to  be  deduced  as  the  ground 
of  explanation  of  experience,  —  which  would  be  a  contradiction 
and  would  transform  this  system  itself  into  a  part  of  experience, 
—  but  is  nevertheless  to  be  referred  to  as  a  part  of  consciousness. 
Whereas,  the  object  of  dogmatism  can  assume  to  be  nothing  but 
a  mere  invention,  which  attains  realization  only  through  the 
success  of  the  system.  This  is  cited  merely  to  promote  a  clearer 
insight  into  the  distinction  between  the  two  systems ;  but  not  to 
draw  therefrom  an  argument  against  the  latter  system.  That 
the  object  of  every  philosophy,  as  the  explanatory  ground  of 
experience,  must  be  beyond  experience,  is  demanded  by  the 
very  nature  of  philosophy,  and  is  far  from  being  derogatory  to 
a  system.  But  we  have  as  yet  discovered  no  reason  why  that 
object  should  be  present  also  in  a  particular  manner  in  con- 
sciousness. 

If  anybody  should  remain  unconvinced  of  the  truth  of  what 
has  just  been  said,  it  still  would  not  be  impossible  to  convince 
him  of  the  truth  of  the  whole  system,  since  the  foregoing  has  only 
been  incidental.  Nevertheless,  in  conformity  with  our  plan,  we 
will  also  here  take  into  consideration  possible  objections.  Some 
one  might  deny  the  immediate  self -consciousness  affirmed  to  be 


492  FICHTE 

in  every  free  act  of  the  mind.  Such  a  one  we  have  only  again  to 
remind  of  the  conditions  of  it  above  specified,  This  self-con- 
sciousness neither  obtrudes  itself,  nor  comes  of  its  own  accord ; 
one  must  really  have  a  free  act,  and  then  abstract  from  the  object 
and  attend  entirely  to  one's  self.  No  one  can  be  compelled  to 
do  this,  and  also  if  he  professes  to  have  done  it,  one  cannot  know 
whether  he  has  proceeded  correctly.  In  a  word,  this  conscious- 
ness cannot  be  proved  to  any  one ;  but  every  one  must  produce 
it  with  freedom  in  himself.  Against  the  second  affirmation,  that 
the  thing-in-itself  is  a  mere  invention,  an  objection  could  only 
be  made,  because  one  misunderstood  it.  Such  a  one  we  would 
refer  back  to  the  preceding  description  of  the  origin  of  this  con- 
ception. 

5- 

Neither  of  these  two  systems  can  directly  refute  the  other; 
for  their  controversy  is  one  about  the  first  underivable  principle. 
Each  refutes  the  other,  if  only  you  admit  its  own  first  principle 
as  established.  Each  denies  everything  to  the  opposite ;  and  they 
have  no  point  in  common  whereby  they  can  attain  a  mutual 
understanding  and  reconciliation.  Though  they  appear  to  agree 
on  the  words  of  a  proposition,  yet  each  one  takes  them  in  a  dif- 
ferent sense. 

First  of  all,  idealism  cannot  refute  dogmatism.  The  former 
system,  indeed,  has,  as  we  have  seen,  the  advantage  over  the 
latter  of  being  able  to  establish  its  explanatory  ground  of  experi- 
ence. —  the  free  acting  intelligence  —  as  a  fact  of  consciousness. 
This  fact  the  dogmatist  must  also  concede  to  him,  for  otherwise 
he  would  render  himself  incapable  of  any  further  dealing  with 
his  opponent ;  but  he  transformed,  however,  the  ground  of  ex- 
planation by  a  correct  inference  from  his  principle  ^into  an  ap- 
pearance and  illusion,  and  thus  disqualifies  it  for  becoming  an 
explanatory  ground  of  anything  else,  since  it  cannot  maintain 
its-  own  existence  in  its  own  philosophy.  According  to  the  dog- 
matist everything  that  presents  itself  to  our  consciousness  is  a 
product  P*  °  ^i^-in-itself, — even  our  pretended  determinations 
by  mean  domTancl  the  belief  that  we  are  free.  This  be- 

lief is  produced  in  us  by  the  effect  upon  ourselves  of  the  Thing, 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        493 

and  the  determinations  which  we  deduced  from  our  freedom 
are  similarly  caused  by  it.  Only,  we  are  not  aware  of  it  in  these 
instances,  and  hence  ascribe  it  to  no  cause,  that  is,  to  our  free- 
dom. Every  consistent  dogmatist  is  necessarily  a  fatalistj  he  does 
not  deny  the  fact  of  consciousness,  that  we  regard  ourselves  as 
free,  for  this  would  be  against  all  reason ;  but  he  proves  from 
his  principle  the  falsity  of  this  view.  He  denies  the  independ- 
ence of  the  Ego  upon  which  the  idealist  builds,  and  makes  it 
merely  a  product  of  the  thing,  an  accident  of  the  world ;  hence 
the  consistent  dogmatist  is  necessarily  also  a  materialist.  He  can 
only  be  refuted  by  the  postulate  of  the  freedom  and  independ- 
ence of  the  ego;  but  this  is  directly  what  he  denies. 

Even  as  little  can  the  dogmatist  refute  the  idealist. 

The  principle  of  the  former,  the  thing-in-itself,  is  nothing, 
and,  as  the  defenders  of  it  must  admit,  has  no  reality  beyond 
that  which  it  receives  from  the  fact  that  experience  can  only 
be  explained  by  it.  But  the  idealist  destroys  this  proof  by  ex- 
plaining experience  in  another  way,  hence  by  denying  precisely 
what  the  dogmatist  assumes.  The  thing-in-itself  is  a  complete 
chimer^.  There  is  no  further  reason  why  it.  should  be  assumed ; 
and  with  its  disappearance  the  entire  structure  of  dogmatism 
falls. 

From  what  has  just  been  stated  there  follows  likewise  the 
absolute  irreconcilability  of  the  two  systems;  since  the  results 
of  the  one  destroy  those  of  the  other.  Wherever  their  union  has 
been  attempted  the  members  would  not  fit  into  one  another, 
and  somewhere  an  enormous  gap  has  appeared.  Any  one  who 
would  deny  the  truth  of  this  position  must  prove  the  possibility 
of  such  a  union,  that  is,  of  a  union  which  consists  in  a  perpetual 
transition  from  matter  to  spirit,  or,  what  is  entirely  the  same, 
from  necessity  to  freedom. 

Since  so  far  as  we  can  perceive  at  present  both  systems  ap- 
pear to  have  the  same  speculative  value,  and  since  both  cannot 
stand  together,  nof^yeiTeither  of  the  two  convince  the  other,  it 
becomes  a  very  interesting  question  what  induces  persons  who 
comprehend  this  —  and  it  is  easily  understood  —  to  prefer  the 
one  to  the  other;  and  why  it  happens  that  scepticism,  as  the 


494  FICHTE 

total  renunciation  of  a  reply  to  this  problem,  does  not  become 
universal. 

The  dispute  between  the  idealist  and  trj£jio^matistjs_precisely 
the  question  whether  the  independence  of  the  Ego  is  to  be-sacrL_ 
ficed  to  that  of  the  thing,  or  vice  ™rsa._What,  then,  is  it  which 
compels  a  reasonable  man  to  decide  in  favor  of  the  one  or  the 
other  ? 

The  philosopher  discovers  from  the  foregoing  point  of  view, 
— which  is  one  where  he  must  necessarily  place  himself  if  he  is 
to  be  regarded  as  a  philosopher,  and  which  every  man,  in  the 
progress  of  thinking,  must  necessarily  sooner  or  later  occupy,  — 
nothing  further  than  that  he  must  represent  to  himself  both  that 
hejis  free,  and  that  there  are  determined  things  outside  of  him. 
It  is,  however,  impossible  for  him  to  stop  at  this  thought ;  the 
thought  of  the  mere  representation  is  only  a  half- thought, .  a 
broken  fragment  of  a  thought.  Something  must  be  thought  in 
addition  as  corresponding  to  the  representation  independent  of 
it.  In  other  words,  the  representation  cannot  exist  by  itself,  — 
it  is  something  only  in  connection  with  something  else,  and  in 
itself  it  is  nothing.  It  is  this  necessity  of  thought  which  forces 
one  from  that  point  of  view  to  the  question,  What  is  the  ground 
of  the  representations  ?  or,  which  is  entirely  the  same,  What  is 
that  which  corresponds  to  them? 

Now  the  representation  of  the  independence  of  the  Ego  and 
that  of  the  thing  can  exist  certainly  together ;  but  not  the  inde- 
pendence itself  of  both.  Only  one  can  be  the  first,  the  beginning, 
the  independent ;  the  second,  by  the  very  fact  of  being  second, 
is  necessarily  dependent  upon  the  first,  with  which  it  is  to  be 
connected. 

Now  which  of  the  two  is  to  be  made  the  first  ?  Reason  affords 
no  ground  for  a  decision ;  for  the  question  does  not  relate  to  the 
connecting  of  one  link  with  another,  where  alone  the  grounds 
of  reason  extend ;  but  to  the  beginning  of  the  entire  succession, 
which  as  an  absolute  first  act  is  wholly  dependent  upon  the  free- 
dom of  thinking.  The  decision  is  therefore  entirely  arbitrary; 
and  since  the  arbitrariness  must  have  a  cause,  the  decision  is 
dependent  upon  inclination  and  interest.  The  last  ground  of  the 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        495 

distinction  between  the  dogmatist  and  the  idealist  is  consequently 
the  difference  of  their  interest. 

The  highest  interest,  and  hence  the  ground  of  all  other  inter- 
est, is  that  for  ourselves.  Thus  with  the  philosopher.  Not  to  lose 
his  Self  in  his  reasoning,  but  to  retain  and  to  assert  it,  this  is  the 
interest  which  unconsciously  guides  all  his  thinking.  Now,  there 
exist  two  grades  of  mankind;  and  in  the  progress  of  our  race, 
before  the  last  grade  has  been  universally  attained,  two  chief 
classes  of  men.  The  one  class  consist  of  those  who  have  not 
raised  themselves  to  the  full  feeling  of  their  freedom  and  of 
absolute  independence,  but  who  are  merely  conscious  of  them- 
selves in  the  representations  of  outward  things.  These  have  only 
a  desultory  self-consciousness,  bound  up  with  outward  objects, 
and  collected  from  their  manifoldness.  The  image  of  their  Self 
is  reflected  to  them  only  from  the  things,  as  from  a  mirror.  .If 
the  latter  be  taken  from  them,  then  they  lose  the  Self  at  the 
same  time.  For  their  own  sake,  they  cannot  give  up  the  belief 
in  the  independence  of  things,  since  they  exist  only  together 
with  these  things.  Whatever  they  are  they  have  actually  be- 
come through  the  external  world.  Whosoever  is  only  a  product 
of  the  things  will  never  view  himself  in  any  other  manner,  and 
he  is  entirely  correct,  so  long  as  he  speaks  merely  of  himself 
and  of  those  like  him.  The  principle  of  the  dogmatist  is :  belief 
in  the  things  for  their  own  sake ;  hence,  a  mediated  belief  in 
his  own  desultory  Self,  as  merely  the  result  of  the  things. 
^But  whosoever  becomes  conscious  of  his  self-existence  and 
independence  from  all  outward  things  —  and  this  one  can  only 
Become  by  making  something  of  one's  self,  by  means  of  one's 
own  self,  independently  of  all  external  things  —  needs  no  longer 
the  things  in  support  of  his  Self,  and  cannot  use  them,  because 
they  destroy  his  self-existence  and  transform  it  into  an  empty 
appearance.  The  Ego,  which  he  possesses,  and  which  interests 
him,  destroys  that  belief  in  the  things ;  he  believes  in  his  inde- 
pendence from  inclination,  and  lays  hold  of  it  with  affection. 
His  belief  in  himself  is  immediate. 

From  this  interest  can  be  explained   the  Carious   passions 
which  commonly  mingle  with  the  defence  of  these  philosophical 


496  FICHTE 

systems.  The  dogmatist  is  actually  in  peril  of  losing  his  Self 
when  his  system  is  attacked;  and  yet  he  is  not  armed  against 
this  attack,  because  there  is  something  in  his  inmost  self  which 
takes  the  side  of  the  assailant;  hence  he  defends  himself  with 
heat  and  bitterness.  The  idealist,  on  the  contrary,  cannot  well 
refrain  from  looking  down  with  disesteem  upon  the  dogmatist, 
who  can  tell  him  nothing  which  he  first  has  not  long  since  known 
and  thrown  aside  as  useless,  inasmuch  as  one  arrives  at  ideal- 
ism, if  not  through  dogmatism  itself,  yet  at  least  by  the  dispo- 
sition thereto.  The  dogmatist  gets  angry,  misconstrues,  and 
would  persecute,  if  he  had  the  power;  the  idealist  is  cold,  and 
inclined  to  ridicule  the  dogmatist. 

What  kind  of  a  philosophy  one  chooses  depends  consequently 
upon  what  kind  of  a  man  one  is ;  for  a  philosophical  system  is 
not  a  piece  of  dead  household  furniture,  which  one  can  use  or 
lay  aside  at  pleasure,  but  is  animated  by  the  soul  of  the  man 
who  has  it.  A  person  of  a  naturally  indolent  character,  or  who 
has  become  weak-minded  and  perverted  through  intellectual 
slavery,  scholarly  luxury,  and  vanity,  will  never  elevate  himself 
to  idealism. 

You  can  reveal  to  the  dogmatist  the  inadequacy  and  inconse- 
quence of  his  system ;  you  can  confuse  and  terrify  him  from  all 
sides ;  but  you  cannot  convince  him,  because  he  is  unable  quietly 
and  coolly  to  hear  and  to  examine  what  he  cannot  tolerate.  If 
idealism  should  prove  to  be  the  only  true  philosophy,  it  will  also 
appear  that  a  man  must  be  born  a  philosopher,  be  educated  to 
be  one,  and  educate  himself  to  be  one ;  but  that  by  no  human  art 
can  one  be  made  a  philosopher.  Hence  this  science  of  know- 
ledge expects  few  proselytes  among  men  whose  mental  habits 
have  already  been  moulded;  but  its  hopes  are  centred  in  the 
rising  generation,  whose  native  vigor  has  not  yet  been  impaired 
by  the  intellectual  laxness  of  the  present  age. 


THE   SCIENCE  OF   KNOWLEDGE 

Translated  from  the  German  *  by 
A.   E.   KROEGER 

"THE   FUNDAMENTAL   PRINCIPLES   OF 
KNOWLEDGE " 

§  i.  FIRST  AND  ABSOLUTELY    UNCONDITIONED 
FUNDAMENTAL  PRINCIPLE 

WE  have  to  search  for  the  absolute,  first,  and  unconditioned 
fundamental  principle  of  human  knowledge.  It  cannot  be 
proven  nor  determined  if  it  is  to  be  absolute  first  principle.  • 

This  principle  is  to  express  the  deed-act  which  does  not  oc- 
cur among  the  empirical  determinations  of  our  consciousness, 
nor  can  so  occur,  since  it  is  rather  the  basis  of  all  consciousness, 
and  first  and  alone  makes  consciousness  possible.  In  represent- 
ing this  deed- act  it  is  not  so  much  to  be  feared  that  my  readers 
will  not  think  what  they  ought  to  think,  as  that  they  will  think 
what  they  ought  not  to  think.  This  renders  necessary  a  reflec- 
tion on  what  may  perhaps  for  the  present  be  taken  for  the  deed- 
act,  and  an  abstraction  from  all  that  does  not  really  belong  to  it. 

Even  by  means  of  this  abstracting  reflection,  that  deed- act 
which  is  not  empirical  fact  of  consciousness  cannot  become  fact 
of  consciousness ;  but  by  means  of  this  abstracting  reflection 
we  may  recognize  so  much :  that  this  deed- act  must  necessarily 
be  thought  as  the  basis  of  all  consciousness. 

The  laws  *  according  to  which  this  deed- act  must  necessarily 
be  thought  as  basis  of  human  knowledge,  or,  which  is  the  same, 
the  rules  by  which  that  abstracting  reflection  proceeds,  have  not 
yet  been  proven  as  valid,  but  are  for  the  present  tacitly  presup- 
posed as  well-known  and  agreed  upon.  As  we  proceed  we  shall 

*  From  J.  G.  Fichte's  Grundlage  der  gesammten  Wissenschaftslehre,  Jena  and 
Leipzig,  1794.  Reprinted  here  from  J.  G.  Fichte's  The  Science  of  Knowledge, 
translated  by  A.  E.  Kroeger,  London,  Trubner  &  Co.,  1889,  pp.  63-84. 

1  The  laws  of  general  logic. 


498  FICHTE 

deduce  them  from  that  fundamental  principle,  the  establishment 
whereof  is  correct  only  if  they  are  correct.  This  is  a  circle,  but 
an  unavoidable  circle.  And  since  it  is  unavoidable  and  freely 
admitted,  it  is  also  allowable  to  appeal  to  all  the  laws  of  general 
logic  in  establishing  this  highest  fundamental  principle. 

In  undertaking  this  abstracting  reflection  we  must  start  from 
some  proposition  which  every  one  will  admit  without  dispute. 
Doubtless  there  are  many  such.  We  choose  the  one  which  seems 
to  us  to  open  the  shortest  road  to  our  purpose. 

In  admitting  this  proposition,  the  deed-act,  which  we  intend 
to  make  the  basis  of  our  whole  science  of  knowledge,  must  be 
admitted;  and  the  reflection  must  show  that  this  deed-act  is 
admitted  the  moment  that  proposition  is  admitted. 

Our  course  of  proceeding  in  this  reflection  is  as  follows: 
Any  fact  of  empirical  consciousness,  admitted  as  such  valid 
proposition,  is  taken  hold  of,  and  from  it  we  separate  one  of  its 
empirical  determinations  after  the  other,  until  only  that  re- 
mains, which  can  no  longer  be  separated  and  abstracted  from. 

As  such  admitted  proposition  we  take  this  one :  A  is  A. 

Every  one  admits  this  proposition,  and  without  the  least 
hesitation.  It  is  recognized  by  all  as  completely  certain  and 
evident. 

If  any  one  should  ask  a  proof  of  its  certainty,  no  one  would 
enter  such  a  proof,  but  would  say:  This  proposition  is  absolutely 
(that  is,  without  any  further  ground)  certain  ;  and  by  saying  this 
would  ascribe  to  himself  the  power  of  absolutely  positing  some- 
thing. 

In  insisting  on  the  in-itself  certainty  of  the  above  proposition, 
you  posit  not  that  A  is.  The  proposition  A  is  A  is  by  no  means 
equivalent  to  A  is.  (Being  when  posited  without  predicate  is 
something  quite  different  from  being  when  posited  with  a  predi- 
cate.) Let  us  suppose  A  to  signify  a  space  inclosed  within  two 
straight  lines,  then  the  proposition  A  is  A  would  still  be  correct ; 
although  the  proposition  A  is  would  be  false,  since  such  a  space 
is  impossible. 

But  you  posit  by  that  proposition :  //  A  is,  then  A  is.  The  ques- 
tion whether  A  is  at  all  or  not,  does  not,  therefore,  occur  in  it. 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        499 

The  content  of  the  proposition  is  not  regarded  at  all :  merely  its 
jorm.  The  question  is  not  whereof  you  know,  but  what  you  know 
of  any  given  subject.  The  only  thing  posited,  therefore,  by  that 
proposition  is  the  absolutely  necessary  connection  between' the 
two  A's.  This  connection  we  will  call  X. 

In  regard  to  A  itself  nothing  has  as  yet  been  posited.  The 
question,  therefore,  arises:  Under  what  condition  is  A? 

X  at  least  is  in  the  Ego,  and  posited  through  the  Ego,  for  it  is 
the  Ego  which  asserts  the  above  proposition,  and  so  asserts  it 
by  the  virtue  of  X  as  a  law,  which  X  or  law  must,  therefore, 
be  given  to  the  Ego;  and,  since  it  is  asserted  absolutely,  and 
without  further  ground,  must  be  given  to  the  Ego  through  itself. 

Whether  and  how  A  is  posited  we  do  not  know j  but  since__XL 
is  to  designate  a  connection  between  an  unknown  positing^  of 
A  (of  the  first  A  in  the  proposition  A  is  A)  and  a  positing  of  the 
same  A,  which  latter  positing  is  absolute  on  condition  of  the 
first  positing,  it  follows  that  A,  at  least  in  so  far  as  that  connection 
is  posited,  is  posited_m  and  through  the  Ego,  like_X.  Proof :  X 
is  only  possible  in  relation  to  an  A ;  now  X  is  really  posited  in 
the  Ego,  hence,  also,  A  must  be  posited  in  the  Ego,  in  so  far  as 
X  is  related  to  it. 

X  is  related  to  that  A,  in  the  above  proposition,  which  oc- 
cupies the  logical  position  of  subject,  and  also  to  that  A  which 
is  the  predicate,  forjboth  are  united  by  Xv  Both,  therefore,  are 
posited  in  the  Ego,  in  so  far  as  they  are  posited;  and  the  A_pf 
the  predicate  is  posited  absolutely  if  the  first  one  is  posited.  Hence 
the  above  proposition  may  be-  also  expressed :  If  A  is  posited 
in  the  Ego,  then  it  is  posited,  or  then  it  is 7 

Hence,  by  means  of  X,  the  Ego  posits :  that  A  is  absolutely  for 
the  asserting  Ego,  and  is  simply  because  it  is  posited  in  the  Ego ; 
or  that  there  is  something  in  the  Ego  which  always  remains  the 
same,  and  is  thus  able  to  connecTor  posit ;  and  hence  the  abso- 
lutely posited  X  may  also  be  expressed  Ego  =  Ego,  or  I  am  I. 

Thus  we  have  already  arrived  at  the  proposition  /  am ;  not 
as  an  expression  of  a  deed-act,  it  is  true,  but,  at  least,  as  expres- 
sion of  a  fact. 

For  X  is  absolutely  posited ;  this  is  a  fact  of  empirical  conscious- 


500  FICHTE 

ness,  as  shown  by  the  admitted  proposition.  Now,  X  signifies 
the  same  as  I  am  I;  hence,  this  proposition  is  also  absolutely 
posited. 

But  Ego  is  Ego,  or  I  am  I,  has  quite  another  significance, 
than  A  is  A.   For  the  latter  proposition  had  content  only  on  a' 
certain  condition,  namely,  if  A  is  posited.   But  the  proposition 
I  am  I  is  unconditionally  and  absolutely  valid,  since  it  is  the 
same  as  X ;  it  is  valid  not  only  in  form,  but  also  in  content.   In 
it  the  Ego  is  posited  not  on  condition,  but  absolutely,  with  the 
predicate  of  self-equality;  hence  it  is  posited,  and  the  proposi- 
tion may  also  be  expressed,  /  am. 

This  proposition,  /  am,  is  as  yet  only  founded  upon  a  fact, 
and  has  no  other  validity  than  that  of  a  fact.  If  "A  =  A  "  (or 
X)  is  to  be  certain,  then  "I  am"  must  also  be  certain.  Now,  it 
is  a  fact  of  empirical  consciousness  that  we  are  compelled  to 
regard  X  as  absolutely  certain;  hence,  also,  "I  am"  is  certain, 
since  it  is  the  ground  of  the  X.  It  follows  from  this,  that  the 
ground  of  explanation  of  all  facts  of  empirical  consciousness  is 
this  :  before  all  positing,  the  Ego  must  be  posited  through  itself*. 

(I  say  of  all  facts;  and  to  prove  this  I  must  show  that  X  is 
the  highest  fact  of  empirical  consciousness,  is  the  basis  of  all 
others,  and  contained  in  all  other  facts;  which,  perhaps,  would 
be  admitted  by  all  men  without  proof,  although  the  whole  science 
of  knowledge  busies  itself  to  prove  it.) 

The  proposition  A  =  A  is  asserted.^  But  all  asserting  is  an 
act  of  the  human  mind ;  for  it  hasli  all  the  conditions  of  such  an 
act  in  empirical  consciousness,  which  ^jpust  be  presupposed  as 
well  known  and  admitted  in  order  to  advance  our  reflection. 
Now,  this  act  is  based  on  something  which  has  no  higher  ground, 
namely,  X  or  I  am. 

Hence,  that  which  is  absolutely  posited  and  in  itself  grounded 
is  the  ground  of  a  certain  (we  shall  see  hereafter  of  all)  acting 
of  the  human  mind ;  hence  its  pure  character ;  the  pure  character 
of  activity  in  itself,  altogether  abstracting  from  its  particular 
empirical  conditions. 

The  positing  of  the  Ego  through  itself  is,  therefore,  the  pure 
activity  of  the  Ego.  The  Ego  posits  itself ;  and  the  Ego  is  by 


THE  SCIENCE  OF   KNOWLEDGE         501 

virtue  of  this  its  mere  self-positing.  Again  vice  versa :  the  Ego 
is  and  posits  its  being,  by  virtue  of  its  mere  being.  It  is  both 
the  acting  and  the  product  of  the  act;  the  active  and  the  re- 
sult of  the  activity ;  deed  and  act,  in  one ;  and  hence  the  /  am  is 
expressive  of  a  deed-act ;  and  of  the  only  possible  deed- act,  as 
our  science  of  knowledge  must  show. 

Let  us  again  consider  the  proposition  /  am  I.  The  Ego  is 
absolutely  posited.  Let  us  assume  that  the  first  Ego  of  this 
proposition  (which  has  the  position  of  formal  subject)  is  the 
absolutely  posited  Ego,  and  that  the  second  Ego  (that  of  the 
predicate)  is  the  being  Ego;  then  the  absolutely  valid  assertion 
that  both  are  one  signifies:  the  Ego  is,  because  it  has  posited 
itself. 

(This  is,  indeed,  the  case  according  to  the  logical  form  of 
the  proposition.  In  A  =  A  the  first  A  is  that  which  is  posited 
in  the  Ego  (either  absolutely,  like  the  Ego  itself,  or  condition- 
ally, like  any  non-Ego) ;  and  in  this  positing  of  A  the  Ego  is 
absolute  subject;  and  hence  the  first  A  is  also  called  the  sub- 
ject. But  the  second  A  designates  that  which  the  Ego,  in  now 
making  itselfjhe  object  of  its  own  reflection,  discovers  thus  as 
posited  in  itself  (since  it  has  just  before  itself  posited  the  A  in 
itself).  The  Ego  in  asserting  that  proposition  A  =  A,  predicates 
in  truth  not  something  of  A,  but  of  itself,  namely,  that  it  has 
found  an  A  posited  in  itself;  and  hence  the  second  A  is  called 
predicate.) 

The  Ego  in  the  former  and  the  Ego  in  the  latter  significance 
are  to  be  absolutely  equal.  Hence,  the  above  proposition  may 
be  turned  around,  and  then  it  reads :  The  Ego  posits  itself  simply 
because  it  is.  It  posits  itself  through  its  mere  being,  and  is  through 
its  mere  being  posited. 

This,  then,  will  explain  clearly  in  what  significance  we  here 
use  the  word  Ego  (I),  and  will  lead  us  to  a  definite  explanation 
of  the  Ego  as  absolute  subject.  The  Ego  as  absolute  subject  is 
that,  the  being  (essence)  whereof  consists  merely  in  positing  itself 
as  being.  As  soon  as  it  posits  itself,  it  is;  and  as  soon  as  it  is, 
it  posits  itself;  and  hence  the  Ego  is  for  the  Ego  absolute  and 
necessary.  Whatsoever  is  not  for  itself  is  not  an  Ego. 


502  FICHTE 

ILLUSTRATION 

The  question  has  been  asked,  What  wasl  before  I  became  self- 
conscious  ?  The  answer  is,  I  was  not  at  all,  for  I  was  not  I.  The 
Ego  is  only,  in  so  far  as  it  is  conscious  of  itself.  The  possibility  of 
that  question  is  grounded  upon  a  mixing  up  of  the  Ego  as  sub- 
ject, and  the  Ego  as  object  of  the  reflection  of  the  absolute  sub- 
ject; and  is  in  itself  altogether  improper.  The  Ego  represents 
itself  and  in  so  far  takes  itself  up  in  the  form  of  representation, 
and  now  first  becomes  a  somewhat,  that  is,  an  object.  Conscious- 
ness receives  in  this  form  of  representation  a  substrate,  which 
is,  even  without  the  real  consciousness,  and  which,  moreover,  is 
thought  bodily.  Such  a  condition  is  thought,  and  the  question 
asked,  What  was  the  Ego  at  that  time  ?  that  is,  what  is  the  sub- 
strate of  consciousness  ?  But  even  in  this  thought  you  uncon- 
sciously add  in  thinking  the  absolute  subject  as  looking  at  that 
substrate ;  and  hence  you  unconsciously  add  in  thought  the  very 
thing  whereof  you  wanted  to  abstract,  and  thus  you  contradict 
yourself.  The  truth  is,  you  cannot  think  any  thing  at  all  without 
adding  in  your  thought  your  Ego  as  self-conscious ;  you  cannot 
abstract  from  your  self-consciousness;  and  all  questions  of  the 
above  kind  are  not  to  be  answered,  since,  maturely  considered, 
they  cannot  be  asked. 

If  the  Ego  is  only  in  so  far  as  it  posits  itself,  then  it  also  is 
only  for  the  positing,  and  posits  only  for  the  being  Ego.  The 
Ego  is  for  the  Ego  ;  but  if  it  posits  itself  absolutely,  as  it  is,  then 
it  posits  itself  necessarily,  and  is  necessary  for  the  Ego.  /  am 
only  for  me;  but  for  me,  /  am  necessarily.  (By  saying  for  me,  I 
already  posit  my  being.) 

To  posit  itself  and  to  be  is,  applied  to  the  Ego,  the  same. 
Hence,  the  proposition  I  am  because  I  have  posited  myself  can 
also  be  expressed :  I  am  absolutely  because  I  am. 

Again,  the  Ego  as  positing  itself  and  the  Ego  as  being  are  one' 
and  the  same.    The  Ego  is  as  what  it  posits  itself,  and  posits 
itself  as  what  it  is.  Hence,  /  am  absolutely  what  I  am. 

The  immediate  expression  of  the  thus  developed  deed- act  may 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        503 

be  given  in  the  following  formula :  I  am  absolutely  because  I  am, 
and  I  am  absolutely  what' I  am  jor  myself. 

If  this  narration  of  the  original  deed-act  is  to  be  placed  at  the 
head  of  a  science  of  knowledge  as  its  highest  fundamental  prin- 
ciple, it  may  perhaps  be  best  expressed  thus :  — 

The  Ego  Posits  Originally  Its  Own  Being. 

(In  other  words,  the  Ego  is  necessarily  identity  of  subject  and 
object ;  it  is  itself  subject-object ;  and  it  is  this  without  further 
mediation.) 

We  started  from  the  proposition  A  =  A,  not  as  if  the  proposi- 
tion, I  am,  could  be  proven  by  it,  but  because  we  had  to  start 
from  some  one  certain  proposition,  given  in  empirical  conscious- 
ness. And  our  development,  also,  has  shown  that  A  =  A  does 
not  contain  the  ground  of  "I  am,"  but,  on  the  contrary,  that 
the  latter  proposition  is  the  ground  of  the  former. 

By  abstracting  from  the  content  of  the  proposition  I  am,  and 
looking  merely  to  its  form,  namely,  the  form  of  drawing  a  con- 
clusion from  the  being  posited  of  something  to  its  being,  as  we 
must  abstract  for  the  sake  of  logic,  we  thus  obtain  as  fundamen- 
tal principle  of  logic  the  proposition  A  =  A,  which  can  only 
be  proven  and  determined  through  the  science  of  knowledge. 
Proven  :  for  A  is  A  because  the  Ego  which  has  posited  A  is  the 
same  as  the  Ego  in  which  A  is  posited.  Determined  :  for  what- 
ever is,  is  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  posited  in  the  Ego,  and  there  is 
nothing  outside  of  the  Ego.  No  possible  A  (no  thing)  can  be  any 
thing  else  but  an  A  posited  in  the  Ego. 

By  abstracting,  moreover,  from  all  asserting  as  a  determined 
acting,  and  looking  merely  to  the  general  manner  of  acting  of 
the  human  mind,  which  is  given  through  that  form,  we  obtain 
the  category  of  reality.  Every  thing  to  which  the  proposition  A  = 
A  is  applicable  has  reality,  in  so  far  as  that  proposition  is  ap- 
plicable to  it.  That  which  is  posited  through  the  mere  positing 
of  any  thing  (in  the  Ego)  is  its  reality,  its  essence. 

REMARKS 

Kant,  in  his  deduction  of  the  categories,  has  hinted  at  our 
proposition  as  absolute  fundamental  principle  of  all  knowledge ; 


504  FICHTE 

but  he  has  never  definitely  established  it  as  fundamental  princi- 
ple. Before  Kant,  Descartes  has  suggested  a  similar  one,  Cogito, 
ergo  sum ;  which,  however,  is  not  necessarily  the  minor  and  con- 
clusion of  a  syllogism,  of  which  the  major  would  have  to  be, 
Quodcunque  cogitat,  est ;  but  which  he  may  also  have  viewed  as 
immediate  fact  of  consciousness.  In  that  case  it  would  signify, 
Cogitans  sum,  ergo  sum  (or,  as  we  should  say,  Sum,  ergo  sum). 
But  in  that  case  the  word  cogitans  is  completely  superfluous; 
you  do  not  think  necessarily  when  you  are,  but  you  are  neces- 
sarily when  you  think.  Thinking  is  not  the  essence,  but  merely 
a  particular  determination  of  the  Ego ;  and  there  are  many  other 
determinations  of  the  Ego. 

Reinhold  speaks  of  representation,  and  his  fundamental 
principle  would  read  in  the  Cartesian  form,  Repraesentio,  ergo 
sum ;  or,  more  correctly,  Repraesentans  sum,  ergo  sum.  He  goes 
considerably  further  than  Descartes,  but  not  far  enough;  for 
representation,  also,  is  not  the  essence  of  the  Ego,  but  merely 
a  particular  determination  of  the  Ego;  and  there  are  many 
other  determinations  of  the  Ego,  although  they  certainly  must 
pass  through  the  medium  of  representation  in  order  to  enter  em- 
pirical consciousness. 

Spinoza,  on  the  other  hand,  goes  beyond  our  proposition  in 
its  established  significance.  He  does  not  deny  the  unity  of  em- 
pirical consciousness,  but  he  utterly  denies  its  pure  consciousness. 
According  to  him  the  whole  series  of  representations  of  a  single 
empirical  subject  is  related  to  the  only  one  pure  subject,  as  a 
single  representation  is  related  to  the  whole  series.  In  his  view 
the  Ego  (that  is,  that  which  he  calls  his  Ego,  or  which  I  call 
my  Ego)  is  not  absolutely  because  it  is,  but  because  something 
else  is.  True,  he  considers  the  Ego  to  be  Ego  for  the  Ego ;  but 
he  asks  what  it  may  be  for  something  outside  of  the  Ego.  Such 
an  "outside  of  the  Ego"  would  also  be  an  Ego,  of  which  the 
posited  Ego  (for  instance,  my  Ego)  and  all  possible  Egos  would 
be  modifications.  He  separates  the  pure  and  the  empirical 
consciousness.  The  first  he  posits  in  God,  who  never  becomes 
self-conscious,  since  pure  consciousness  never  attains  conscious- 
ness; the  latter  he  posits  in  the  particular  modifications  of  the 


THE  SCIENCE  OF   KNOWLEDGE         505 

Godhead.  His  system,  thus  established,  is  perfectly  logical  and 
not  to  be  refuted,  because  he  has  entered  a  sphere  where  reason 
cannot  follow  him;  but  his  system  is  also  groundless,  for  what 
justified  him  in  going  beyond  the  pure  consciousness  given  in 
empirical  consciousness  ? 

§  2.  SECOND,  AND  IN  REGARD  TO  ITS  CONTENT, 
CONDITIONED   FUNDAMENTAL   PRINCIPLE 

For  the  same  reason  that  the  first  fundamental  principle  could 
not  be  proven  or  deduced,  the  second,  also,  cannot  be  proven. 
Hence,  we  here  also  proceed  from  a  fact  of  empirical  con- 
sciousness in  the  same  manner. 

The  proposition  not  A  is  not  A  will  doubtless  be  recognized 
by  every  one  as  certain,  and  it  is  scarcely  to  be  expected  that 
any  one  will  ask  for  its  proof. 

If,  however,  such  a  proof  were  possible,  it  must  in  our  system 
be  deduced  from  the  proposition  A  =  A. 

But  such  a  proof  is  impossible.  For  let  us  assume,  at  the 
utmost,  that  the  above  proposition  is  the  same  as  —A  is  —A 
(and  hence  that  -A  is  equal  to  some  Y  posited  in  the  Ego), 
and  that  for  this  reason  our  proposition  signifies  now:  if  the 
opposite  of  A  is  posited,  then  it  is  posited ;  still  we  should  only 
have  the  same  connection  posited  (X)  which  we  obtained  in  our 
§  i,  and  our  proposition,  —A  is  not  A,  instead  of  being  derived 
from  A  =  A,  would,  after  all,  be  only  the  very  same  proposition. 
The  chief  question,  Is  the  opposite  of  A  posited,  and  under  what 
condition  of  form  of  mere  acting  is  it  posited  ?  is  altogether  ig- 
nored. If  our  second  proposition  were  a  derived  one,  then  this 
condition  of  the  form  of  acting  would  have  to  be  derived  from 
the  proposition  A  =  A.  But  how  can  the  proposition  A  =  A, 
which  involves  only  the  form  of  positing,  also  involve  the  form 
of  oppositing  ?  Hence,  that  form  of  acting,  the  oppositing,  is  pos- 
•  ited  absolutely,  and  with  no  attached  condition.  —A  is  posited 
as  such  simply  because  it  is  posited. 

Hence,  as  sure  as  the  proposition  —  A  not  =  A  occurs  among 
the  facts  of  empirical  consciousness,  there  occurs  among  the 


5o6  FICHTE 

acts  of  the  Ego  an  -oppositing  ;  and  this  oppositing,  as  far  as 
its  jorm  is  concerned,  is  absolutely  and  unconditionally  possible, 
and  is  an  acting  which  has  no  higher  ground. 

Through  this  absolute  act  the  opposite,  as  mere  opposite,  is 
posited.  Every  opposite,  in  so  far  as  it  is  merely  opposite,  is  simply 
by  virtue  of  an  absolute  act  of  the  Ego,  and  has  no  other  ground. 
Opposition  generally  is  simply  posited  through  the  Ego. 

But  if  any  —A  is  to  be  posited,  an  A  must  be  posited.  Hence, 
the  act  of  oppositing  is  also,  in  another  respect,  conditioned. 
Whether  the  act  at  all  is  possible  depends  upon  another  act; 
hence,  the  act  in  its  content,  as  acting  generally,  is  conditioned ; 
it  is  an  acting  in  relation  to  another  acting.  The  jorm  of  the  act, 
however,  (the  How?  namely,  that  it  is  not  an  act  of  positing, 
but  of  oppositing,)  is  unconditioned. 

(Opposition  is  only  possible  on  condition  of  the  unity  of  con- 
sciousness of  the  positing  and  the  oppositing.  For  if  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  first  act  were  not  connected  with  that  of  the  second, 
then  the  second  positing  would  not  be  an  ^-positing,  but  an 
absolute  positing.  Oppositing  it  becomes  only  through  its  rela- 
tion to  a  positing.) 

As  yet  we  have  only  spoken  of  the  act,  as  mere  act,  of  the 
manner  of  acting.  Let  us  now  examine  its  product,  =  —  A. 

In  —A  we  can  again  distinguish  jorm  and  content.  Through 
the  form  is  determined,  that  it  is  an  opposite;  the  content  de- 
termines that  it  is  an  opposite  of  a  determined  something  (of 
A),  that  it  is  not  this  something. 

The  jorm  of  —A  is  determined  simply  through  the  act;  it 
is  an  opposite  because  it  is  product  of  an  oppositing;  the  con- 
tent is  determined  through  A :  it  is  not  what  A  is,  and  its  whole 
essence  consists  in  this,  that  it  is  not  what  A  is.  I  know  of  —A 
simply  that  it  is  the  opposite  of  A.  But  what  that  is  whereof  I 
know  this,  I  can  only  know  by  knowing  A. 

Originally  only  the  Ego  is  posited,  and  this  alone  is  absolutely 
posited.  (§i.)  Hence,  an  absolute  oppositing  can  only  refer  to 
the  Ego.  The  opposite  of  the  Ego  we  call  Non-Ego. 

As  sure  as  the  proposition  —A  is  not  A  is  unconditionally 
admitted  as  a  fact  of  empirical  consciousness,  a  non-Ego  is  ab- 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        507 

solutely  opposited  to  the  Ego.  All  we  have  said  above  in  refer- 
ence to  oppositing  generally  is  deduced  from  this  original  opposit- 
ing,  and  hence  is  valid  for  it;  it  is,  therefore,  unconditioned  in 
form,  but  conditioned  in  content.  And  thus  we  have  also  found 
the  second  principle  of  all  human  knowledge. 

Whatever  appertains  to  the  Ego,  of  that  the  opposite  must 
appertain  to  the  non-Ego. 

(The  general  opinion  is,  that  the  conception  of  the  non-Ego  is 
a  discursive  conception,  obtained  by  abstracting  from  all  ob- 
jects of  representation.  But  the  foolishness  of  this  explanation 
can  be  easily  demonstrated.  If  I  am  to  represent  an  object,  I 
must  posit  it  in  opposition  to  the  representing  subject.  Now, 
it  is  true  that  in  the  object  of  representation  there  can  and  must 
be  an  X,  whereby  it  discovers  itself  to  be  not  the  representing, 
but  a  represented ;  but  no  object  of  representation  can  possibly 
teach  one,  that  every  thing  wherein  this  X  occurs  is  represented 
object,  and  not  representing  subject.  Now,  it  is  true  that  in  the 
object  of  representation  there  can  and  must  be  an  X,  whereby 
it  discovers  itself  to  be  not  the  representing,  but  a  represented ; 
but  no  object  of  representation  can  possibly  teach  me,  that 
every  thing  wherein  this  X  occurs  is  represented  object,  and 
not  representing  subject ;  on  the  contrary,  only  by  presupposing 
the  law  do  I  attain  any  object.) 

By  undertaking  the  same  abstraction  with  this  proposition, 
which  we  undertook  with  the  first,  we  obtain  the  logical  propo- 
sition —  A  is  not  A,  which  I  should  call  the  proposition  of 
oppositing.  In  the  present  place,  this  proposition  cannot  yet 
be  properly  determined,  or  expressed  in  a  formula,  the  reason 
whereof  will  appear  in  the  following  section. 

By  abstracting  from  the  determined  act  of  asserting  this 
proposition,  and  looking  merely  to  the  form  of  drawing  a  con- 
clusion from  the  being  opposited  of  something  to  its  being,  we 
obtain  the  category  of  negation.  This  also  cannot  be  clearly 
developed  till  in  the  following  section. 


508  FICHTE 

§3.    THIRD,  IN  ITS  FORM  CONDITIONED   FUN- 
DAMENTAL  PRINCIPLE. 

Every  step  we  take  in  our  science  brings  us  nearer  to  the 
point  where  every  thing  can  be  proven.  In  the  first  principle, 
nothing  could  be  nor  was  to  be  proven ;  in  the  second,  only  the 
act  of  oppositing  was  not  provable ;  but  this  act  once  admitted, 
it  was  strictly  shown  that  the  opposite  must  be  a  Non-Ego. 
The  third  principle  is  almost  throughout  capable  of  proof,  since 
it  is  not,  like  the  second,  conditioned  in  content,  but  only  in 
form  by  the  two  foregoing  propositions. 

It  is  conditioned  in  form  signifies,  the  problem  oj  the  act  it 
establishes  is  given  by  the  two  foregoing  propositions,  but  not 
the  solution  of  the  problem.  The  solution  is  the  result  of  an 
unconditioned  and  absolute  act  of  reason. 

We  therefore  commence  with  a  deduction,  and  proceed  as 
far  as  we  can  go.  When  we  can  go  no  further,  we  shall  have  to 
appeal  to  this  absolute  act. 

1.  In  so  far  as  the  Non-Ego  is  posited,  the  Ego  is  not  posited; 
for  the  Non-Ego  completely  cancels  the  Ego. 

Now,  the  Non-Ego  is  posited  in  the  Ego,  for  it  is  opposited ; 
and  all  oppositing  presupposes  the  identity  of  the  Ego. 

Hence,  the  Ego  is  not  posited  in  the  Ego  in  so  far  as  the  Non- 
Ego  is  posited  in  it. 

2.  But  the  Non-Ego  can  only  be  posited  in  so  far  as  an  Ego 
is  posited  in  the  Ego,  (in  the  identical  consciousness,)  as  the  op- 
posite of  which  it  is  posited. 

Hence,  in  so  far  as  the  Non-Ego  is  posited  in  the  Ego,  the  Ego 
also  must  be  posited  in  it. 

3.  The  conclusions  of  our  ist  and  2d  are  opposed  to  each 
other;  yet  both  are  developed  from  the  second  fundamental 
principle;  hence,  that  second  principle  is  opposed  to  itself  and 
cancels  itself. 

4.  But  it  cancels  itself  only  in  so  far  as  the  posited  is  canceled 
by  the  opposited,  hence  in  so  far  as  itself  is  valid. 

Hence,  it  does  not  cancel  itself.  The  second  fundamental 
principle  cancels  itself  and  does  not  cancel  itself. 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        509 

5.  If  this  is  the  case  with  the  second  principle,  it  must  also 
be  with  the  first  principle.  That  first  principle  cancels  itself  and 
does  not  cancel  itself.  For, 

If  Ego  is  =  Ego,  then  all  is  posited,  which  is  posited  in  the 
Ego. 

Now,  the  second  principle  is  to  be  posited  and  not  to  be  posited 
in  the  Ego. 

Hence,  Ego  is  not  =  Ego,  but  Ego  is  =  to  the  Non-Ego,  and 
Non-Ego  =  Ego. 

All  these  results  have  been  deduced  from  the  established 
principles  according  to  the  laws  of  reflection  presupposed  as 
valid ;  they  must  be  correct,  therefore.  But  if  they  are  correct, 
the  identity  of  consciousness,  the  only  absolute  foundation  of 
our  knowledge,  is  canceled.  This  determines  our  problem.  We 
must  find  an  X,  by  means  of  which  all  these  results  may  be  cor- 
rect, without  destroying  the  identity  of  consciousness. 

1.  The  opposites,  to  be  united,  are  in  the  Ego  as  conscious- 
ness.  Hence  X  must  also  be  in  consciousness. 

2.  Both  the  Ego  and  Non-Ego  are  products  of  original  acts 
of  the  Ego,  and  consciousness  itself  is  such  a  product  of  the  first 
original  act  of  the  Ego,  of  the  positing  of  the  Ego  through  itself. 

3.  But  our  above  results  show  that  the  act  of  which  the  Non- 
Ego  is  the  product,  that  is,  the  oppositing,  is  not  at  all  possible 
without  X.  Hence,  X  itself  must  be  a  product  of  an  original  act 
of  the  Ego.   There  must  be,  accordingly,  an  act  of  the  human 
mind  =  Y,  the  product  of  which  is  X. 

4.  The  form  of  this  act  Y  is  determined  by  the  above  prob^ 
lem.  It  is  to  be  a  uniting  of  the  opposites  (the  Ego  and  the  Non- 
Ego)  without  their  mutually  canceling  each  other.    The  oppo- 
sites are  to  be  taken  up  into  the  identity  of  consciousness. 

5.  But  the  problem  does  not  determine  the  How,   or  the 
manner  of  this  uniting,  nor  even  suggest  it  at  all.   We  must, 
therefore,  make  an  experiment,  and  ask :  How  can  A  and  —  A, 
being  and  not  being,  reality  and  negation,  be  thought  together, 
without  their  mutually  canceling  each  other? 

6.  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  any  one  will  reply  otherwise 
but :  They  must  mutually  limit  each  other.   If  this  answer  is 


5io  FICHTE 

t 

correct,  the  act  Y  is  a  limiting  of  both  opposites  through  each 
other,  and  X  would  signify  the  limits. 

(Let  me  not  be  understood  as  asserting  that  the  conception 
of  limits  is  an  analytical  conception,  involved  in,  and  to  be 
developed  out  of,  the  union  of  reality  and  negation.  It  is  true 
our  two  fundamental  principles  have  given  us  the  opposite 
conceptions,  and  our  first  principle  has  given  us  the  require- 
ment to  unite  them.  But  the  manner  of  uniting  them  has  not 
been  given,  and  is  determined  by  a  particular  law  of  our  mind, 
which  law  our  experiment  was  only  to  make  us  conscious  of.) 

7.  The  conception  of  limits,  however,  involves  more  than 
the  required  X;  for  it  involves  also  the  conceptions  of  reality 
and  negation,  which  are  to  be  united.  Hence,  to  get  X  pure,  we 
must  undertake  another  abstraction. 

8.  To  limit  something  signifies  to  cancel  the  reality  thereof 
not  altogether,  but  only  in  part.   Hence  the  conception  of  limits 
involves,  besides  the  conception  of  reality  and  negation,  that 
of  divisibility,  (of  quantitability  generally,  not  of  a  determined 
quantity).  This  conception  is  the  required  X,  and  hence,  through 
the  act  Y,  the  Ego  as  well  as  the  Non-Ego  is  posited  divisible. 

9.  The  Ego  as  well  as  the  Non-Ego  is  posited  divisible  ;  for 
the  act  Y  cannot  succeed  the  act  of  oppositing,  for  in  itself  the 
act  of  oppositing  has  shown  itself  impossible;  nor  can  it  pre- 
cede that  act,  for  the  act   Y  occurs   merely  to  make  the  act  of 
oppositing  possible ;  and  divisibility  is  nothing  but  a  divisible. 
Hence,  the  act  Y  and  the  act  of  oppositing  occur  in  and  with  each 
other;  both  are  one  and  the  same,  and  are  only  distinguished 
in  reflection.    By  oppositing,  therefore,  a  Non-Ego  to  the  Ego, 
both  the  Ego  and  the  Non-Ego  are  posited  di visile. 

Let  us  now  see  whether  the  here  established  act  has  really 
solved  the  opposites. 

The  first  result  is  now  determined  as  follows :  The  Ego  is  not 
posited  in  the  Ego  in  so  far,  that  is,  with  those  parts  of  reality 
wherewith  the  Non-Ego  is  posited.  That  part  of  reality,  which 
is  ascribed  to  the  Non-Ego,  is  canceled  in  the  Ego. 

This  proposition*  at  present  does  not  contradict  the  second 
result :  in  so  far  as  the  Non-Ego  is  posited,  the  Ego  also  must 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE         511 

be  posited  ;  for  both  are  posited  as  divisible  in  regard  to  their 
reality. 

And  only  now  can  you  say  of  either,  it  is  something.  For  the 
absolute  Ego  of  the  first  fundamental  principle  is  not  something, 
(has  no  predicate  and  can  have  none;)  it  is  simply  what  it  is. 
But  now  all  reality  is  in  consciousness,  and  of  this  reality  that 
part  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  Non-Ego,  which  is  not  to  be  ascribed 
to  the  Ego,  and  vice  versa.  Both  are  something.  The  Non-Ego 
is  what  the  Ego  is  not,  and  vice  versa.  Opposed  to  the  absolute 
Ego,  the  Non-Ego  is  absolutely  nothing,  (but  it  can  be  opposed 
to  the  absolute  Ego  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  an  object  of  represen- 
tation, as  we  shall  see  hereafter;)  opposed  to  the  divisible  Ego, 
the  Non-Ego  is  a  negative  quantity. 

The  Ego  is  to  be  =  Ego,  and  yet  it  is  also  to  be  opposed  to 
itself.  But  it  is  self-equal  in  regard  to  consciousness ;  and  in  this 
consciousness  the  absolute  Ego  is  posited  as  indivisible,  and  the 
Ego,  to  which  the  Non-Ego  is  opposed,  as  divisible.  Hence, 
in  the  unity  of  consciousness,  all  the  opposites  are  united;  for 
in  it  even  the  Ego,  in  so  far  as  a  Non-Ego  is  opposed  to  it,  is 
opposed  to  the  absolute  Ego;  and  this  is,  as  it  were,  the  test 
that  the  established  conception  of  divisibility  was  the  correct 
one. 

According  to  our  presupposition,  which  can  be  proven  only 
through  the  completion  of  the  science  of  knowledge,  only  one 
absolute  unconditioned,  one  in  its  content  conditioned,  and  one 
in  its  form  conditioned  principle  is  possible.  Hence,  no  further 
principle  can  be  possible.  All  that  is  unconditionally  and  abso- 
lutely certain  has  been  exhausted,  and  I  might  express  the  total 
in  this  formula: 

The  Ego  opposits  in  the  Ego  a  divisible  Non-Ego  to  a  divisible 
Ego. 

Beyond  this  cognition  no  philosophy  can  go ;  but  every  thorough 
philosophy  ought  to  go  to  it,  and  by  doing  so  will  become  science 
of  knowledge.  Whatsoever  is  hereafter  to  occur  in  the  system 
of  the  human  mind  must  be  deducible  from  what  we  have  here 
established. 


512  FICHTE 

REMARKS 

We  have  united  the  opposites,  Ego  and  Non-Ego,  through 
the  conception  of  divisibility.  By  abstracting  from  the  content 
(the  Ego  and  Non-Ego)  and  looking  at  the  mere  form  of  uniting 
opposites  through  the  conception  of  divisibility,  we  obtain  the 
logical  proposition  of  the  ground;  that  is,  A  is  in  part  —A, 
and  vice  versa.  Every  opposite  is  related  to  its  opposite  in  one 
characteristic  =  X;  and  all  equals  are  opposed  to  each  other 
in  one  characteristic  X.  Such  an  X  is  called,  in  the  first  instance, 
ground  of  relation  ;  in  the  second  instance,  ground  of  distinction. 
This  logical  proposition  our  third  fundamental  principle  both 
proves  and  determines. 

Proves  :  for  every  opposite  =  —  A  is  opposed  to  an  A,  and 
this  A  is  posited.  Through  the  positing  of  a  —  A  you  both  cancel 
and  do  not  cancel  A.  Hence,  you  only  cancel  A  in  part;  and 
instead  of  the  X  in  A,  which  is  not  canceled,  you  have  posited 
in  —A  not  —X,  but  X  itself;  and  hence  A  is  =  —A  in  X. 

Again,  every  opposite  (=  A  =  B)  is  self -equal  by  virtue  of 
being  posited  in  the  Ego :  A  =  B,  B  =  B. 

Now,  you  posit  B  =  A ;  hence,  B  is  not  posited  through  A, 
for  then  it  would  be  =  A  and  not  =  B.  (You  would  have  only 
posited  one,  and  not  two.) 

But  if  B  is  not  posited  through  the  positing  of  A,  then  it  is 
in  so  far  =  —A;  and  through  the  positing  of  both  as  equal, 
neither  A  nor  B,  but  an  X,  is  posited,  which  X  is  =  X  and  =  A 
and  =  B. 

Thus  it  appears  how  the  proposition  A  —  B  can  be  valid, 
which  in  itself  contradicts  the  proposition  A  =  A.  X  =  X,  A 
=A,  B  =  X;  hence,  A  =  B  in  so  far  as  both  is  =  X;  but  A  = 
—  B  in  so  far  as  both  is  =  —X. 

Opposites  are  related  and  equals  are  opposed  to  each  other  in 
only  one  part.  For,  if  they  were  opposed  in  many  parts,  that  is, 
if  the  opposites  themselves  contained  opposite  characteristics, 
one  or  both  would  belong  to  that  wherein  they  are  equal,  and 
hence  they  would  not  be  opposites,  and  vice  versa.  Every 
grounded  judgment  has,  therefore,  only  one  ground  of  relation 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE         513 

and  one  ground  of  distinction.  If  it  has  more,  it  is  not  one 
judgment,  but  many  judgments. 

Determines :  for  only  on  condition  that  many  things  are 
posited  at  all  as  equals  or  as  opposites,  are  they  thus  opposed 
or  related  in  one  characteristic.  But  it  is  by  no  means  asserted 
that  absolutely  every  thing  which  may  occur  in  our  conscious- 
ness must  be  equal  to  another,  and  opposed  to  a  third. 

A  judgment,  therefore,  concerning  that  to  which  nothing  is 
related  or  opposed,  does  not  come  at  all  under,  the  rule  of  this 
proposition  of  the  ground,  for  it  is  not  under  the  condition  of 
its  validity;  it  is  not  grounded,  since,  on  the  contrary,  itself 
grounds  all  possible  judgments;  it  has  no  ground,  but  furnishes 
itself  the  ground  of  all  grounded.  The  object  of  all  such  judg- 
ments is  the  absolute  Ego,  and  all  judgments,  whereof  it  is  the 
subject,  are  valid  absolutely,  and  without  further  ground. 

The  act  whereby,  in  comparing  a  twofold,  you  look  up  the 
mark  wherein  they  are  opposites,  is  called  the  antithetical  pro- 
ceeding, generally  spoken  of  as  analytical,  which  expression, 
however,  is  less  proper;  partly  because  it  permits  the  opinion 
that  you  can  develop  something  out  of  a  conception  which  you 
have  not  previously  put  into  it  by  a  synthesis,  and  partly  because 
the  expression  antithetical  signifies  more  clearly  that  it  is  the 
opposite  of  synthetical.  For  the  synthetical  proceeding  consists 
in  this,  that  in  opposites  that  characteristic  is  looked  up  wherein 
they  are  equal.  In  the  mere  logical  form,  judgments  of  the  first 
class  are  called  antithetical  or  negative,  and  judgments  of  the 
latter  class  synthetical  or  affirmative  judgments. 

Again :  since  we  discovered,  in  the  development  of  our  third 
principle,  that  the  act  of  uniting  opposites  in  a  third  is  not  pos- 
sible without  the  act  of  oppositing,  and  vice  versa,  it  also  follows 
that  in  logic  antithesis  and  synthesis  are  inseparable.  No  anti- 
thesis —  no  positing  of  equals  as  opposites  —  without  synthesis 
-  without  the  previous  positing  of  the  equals  as  equals.  No 
synthesis  —  no  positing  of  opposites  as  equals — without  anti- 
thesis —  without  the  previous  positing  of  the  opposites  as  op- 
posites. (As  far  as  the  content  is  concerned,  mere  analytical 
judgments  have,  therefore,  no  existence;  and  not  only  do  they 


FICHTE 

not  carry  us  far,  as  Kant  remarks,  but  they  do  not  advance  us 
a  single  step.) 

Kant's  celebrated  question,  which  he  placed  at  the  head  of 
his  Critic  of  Pure  Reason,  How  are  synthetical  judgments  a 
priori  possible  ?  has  now  been  answered  in  the  most  universal 
and  satisfactory  manner.  In  our  third 'principle  we  have  estab- 
lished a  synthesis  between  the  opposites,  Ego  and  Non-Ego,  by 
means  of  the  posited  divisibility  of  both,  concerning  the  possi- 
bility of  which  no  further  question  can  be  asked  nor  any  further 
ground  assigned;  it  is  absolutely  possible,  and  we  are  justified 
in  establishing  it  without  further  ground.  All  other  syntheses, 
which  are  to  be  valid,  must  be  involved  in  this  one ;  must  have 
been  established  in  and  with  this  one;  and  as  soon  as  this  is 
proven,  the  most  convincing  proof  has  been  shown  up  that  they 
are  equally  valid. 

Must  be  involved  in  this  one ;  and  this  shows  us  at  the  same 
time  in  the  most  determined  manner,  how  we  must  proceed  in 
the  development  of  our  science.  It  is  syntheses  we  are  to  obtain, 
and  hence  our  whole  course  of  proceeding  hereafter  will  be 
synthetical ;  every  proposition  will  contain  a  synthesis.  (At  least 
in  the  theoretical  part  of  our  science,  for  in  the  practical  part 
the  very  reverse  is  the  case,  as  will  appear  hereafter.)  But  no 
synthesis  is  possible  without  a  previous  analysis;  from  this 
analysis,  however,  in  so  far  as  it  is  an  act,  we  abstract,  and  only 
look  up  its  product  —  the  opposites.  Hence,  at  every  propo- 
sition hereafter  we  shall  begin  by  looking  up  the  opposites  in- 
volved in  it,  and  which  are  to  be  united.  Again,  all  our  syn- 
theses are  to  be  involved  in  the  highest  synthesis,  just  shown 
up,  and  to  be  developed  out  of  it.  Hence  it  will  be  our  task  to 
look  up  in  the  Ego  and  Non-Ego,  which  that  synthesis  unites, 
some  opposite  characteristics,  which  have  not  been  united ;  and 
to  unite  these  opposites  through  a  new  ground  of  relation, 
which,  again,  must  be  involved  in  the  highest  ground  of  rela- 
tion ;  next,  it  will  be  our  task  to  look  up  new  opposites  in  the 
opposites  united  by  this  second  synthesis,  and  to  unite  them  in 
a  third  synthesis;  and  to  continue  this  course  until  we  arrive 
at  opposites  which  can  no  longer  be  perfectly  united,  whereby 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  KNOWLEDGE        515 

we  shall  then  be  forced  to  enter  the  practical  part  of  our 
science. 

As  antithesis  is  not  possible  without  synthesis,  and  vice  versa, 
so  neither  is  possible  without  a  thesis ;  that  is,  without  an  abso- 
lute positing,  whereby  a  certain  A  (the  Ego)  is  posited,  not  as 
the  equal  of  any  other,  nor  as  the  opposite  of  any  other,  but  is 
absolutely  posited.  This,  when  applied  to  our  system,  gives  it 
completeness  and  surety.  It  must  be  a  system  and  one  system; 
the  opposites  must  be  united  so  long  as  opposites  still  exist,  and 
until  the  absolute  unity  is  produced;  which  absolute  unity,  as 
will  be  shown  hereafter,  can,  however,  only  be  produced  by  a 
completed  approach  to  the  infinite,  that  is  to  say,  never  in  time. 

The  necessity  to  opposit  and  unite  in  the  above  determined 
manner  rests  immediately  on  our  third  fundamental  princi- 
ple ;  the  necessity  to  unite  at  all,  rests  on  the  first  highest  and 
absolutely  unconditioned  principle.  The  form  of  the  system  is 
grounded  in  the  highest  synthesis;  but  that  a  system  is  to  be 
at  all  is  grounded  in  the  absolute  thesis. 


THE   VOCATION  OF   MAN 

Translated  from  the  German*  by 
WILLIAM    SMITH 

BOOK  III.    FAITH 
ra 

THIS,  then,  is  my  whole  sublime  vocation,  my  true  nature.  I  am 
a  member  of  two  orders :  —  the  one  purely  spiritual,  in  which 
I  rule  by  my  will  alone;  the  other  sensuous,  in  which  I  ope- 
rate by  my  deed.  The  whole  end  of  reason  is  pure  activity, 
absolutely  by  itself  alone^having  no  need  of  any  instrument  out 
of  itself,  —  independence  of  everything  which  is  not  reason,  — 
absolute  freedom.  The  will  is  the  living  principle  of  reason,  — 
is  itself  reason,  when  purely  and  simply  apprehended;  that 
reason  is  active  by  itself  alone,  means,  that  pure  will,  merely  as 
such,  lives  and  rules.  It  is  only  the  Infinite  Reason  that  lives 
immediately  and  wholly  in  this  purely  spiritual  order.  The 
finite  reason,  —  which  does  not  of  itself  constitute  the  world  of 
reason,  but  is  only  one  of  its  -many  members,  —  lives  necessarily 
at  the  same  time  in  a  sensuous  order ;  that  is  to  say,  in  one  which 
presents  to  it  another  object,  beyond  a  purely  spiritual  activity : 
—  a  material  object,  to  be  promoted  by  instruments  and  powers 
which  indeed  stand  under  the  immediate  dominion  of  the  will, 
but  whose  activity  is  also  conditioned  by  their  own  natural  laws: 
Yet  as  surely  as  reason  is  reason,  must  the  will  operate  abso- 
lutely by  itself,  and  independently  of  the  natural  laws  by  which 
the  material  action  is  determined ;  —  and  hence  the  sensuous 
life  of  every  finite  being  points  towards  a  higher,  into  which  the 
will,  by  itself  alone,  may  open  the  way,  and  of  which  it  may 
acquire  possession,  —  a  possession  which  indeed  we  must  again 
sensuously  conceive  of  as  a  state,  and  not  as  a  mere  will. 

*  From  Die  Bestimmung  des  Menschen,  Berlin,  1800.   Reprinted  from  J.  G. 
Fichte's  Vocation  of  Man,  translated  by  Wm.  Smith,  London,  1838. 


THE  VOCATION  OF   MAN  517 

These  two  orders,  —the  purely  spiritual  and  the  sensuous, 
the  latter  consisting  possibly  of  an  innumerable  series  of  par- 
ticular lives,  —  have  existed  since  the  first  moment  of  the  de- 
velopment of  an  active  reason  within  me,  and  still  proceed 
parallel  to  each  other.  The  latter  order  is  only  a  phenomenon 
for  myself,  and  for  those  with  whom  I  am  associated  in  this  life ; , 
the  former  alone  gives  it  significance,  purpose,  and  value.  I  am 
immortal,  imperishable,"  eternal,  as  soon  as  I  form  the  resolu- 
tion to  obey  the  laws  of  reason ;  I  do  not  need  to  become  so.  The 
super- sensual  w6rld  is  no  future  world;  it  is  now  present;  it  can 
at  no  point  of  finite  existence  be  more  present  than  at  another; 
not  more  present  after  an  existence  of  myriads  of  lives  than  at 
this  moment.  My  sensuous  existence  may,  in  future,  assume 
other  forms,  but  these  are  just  as  little  the  true  life,  as  its  present 
form.  By  that  resolution  I  lay  hold  on  eternity,  and  cast  off  this 
earthly  life  and  all  other  forms  of  sensuous  life  which  may  yet 
lie  before  me  in  futurity,  and  place  myself  far  above  them.  I 
become  the  sole  source  of  my  own  being  and  its  phenomena, 
and,  henceforth,  unconditioned  by  anything  without  me,  I  have 
life  in  myself.  My  will,  which  is  directed  by  no  foreign  agency 
in  the  order  of  the  super-sensual  world,  but  by  myself  alone,  is 
this  source  of  true  life,  and  of  eternity. 

It  is  my  will  alone  which  is  this  source  of  true  life,  and  of 
eternity ;  —  only  by  recognising  this  will  as  the  peculiar  seat  of 
moral  goodness,  and  by  actually  raising  it  thereto,  do  I  obtain 
the  assurance  and  the  possession  of  that  super- sensual  world. 

Without  regard  to  any  conceivable  or  visible  object,  without 
inquiry  as  to  whether  my  will  may  be  followed  by  any  result 
other  than  the  mere  volition,  — "l  must  will  in  accordance  with 
the  moral  law.  My  will  stands  alone,  apart  from  all  that  is  not 
itself,  and  is  its  own  world  merely  by  itself  and  for  itself;  not 
only  as  being  itself  an  absolutely  first,  primary  and  original 
power,  before  which  there  is  no  preceding  influence  by  which  it 
may  be  governed,  but  also  as  being  followed  by  no  conceivable 
or  comprehensible  second  step  in  the  series,  corning  after  it,  by 
which  its  activity  may  be  brought  under  the  dominion  of  a  for- 
eign law.  Did  there  proceed  from  it  any  second,  and  from  this 


5i8  FICHTE 

again  a  third  result,  and  so  forth,  in  any  conceivable  sensuous 
world  opposed  to  the  spiritual  world,  then  would  its  strength 
be  broken  by  the  resistance  it  would  encounter  from  the  inde- 
pendent elements  of  such  a  world  which  it  would  set  in  motion ; 
the  mode  of  its  activity  would  no  longer  exactly  correspond  to 
the  purpose  expressed  in  the  volition;  and  the  will  would  no 
longer  remain  free,  but  be  partly  limited  by  the  peculiar  laws 
of  its  heterogeneous  sphere  of  action.  And  thus  must  I  actually 
regard  the  will  in  the  present  sensuous  world,  the  only  one  known 
to  me.  I  am  indeed  compelled  to  believe,  and  consequently  to 
act  as  if  I  thought,  that  by  my  mere  volition,  my  tongue,  my 
hand,  or  my  foot,  might  be  set  in  motion ;  but  how  a  mere  aspira- 
tion, an  impress  of  intelligence  upon  itself,  such  as  will  is,  can 
be  the  principle  of  motion  to  a  heavy  material  mass,  —  this  I 
not  only  find  it  impossible  to  conceive,  but  the  mere  assertion  is, 
before  the  tribunal  of  the  understanding,  a  palpable  absurdity ; 
-  here  the  movement  of  matter  even  in  myself  can  be  explained 
only  by  the  internal  forces  of  matter  itself. 

Such  a  view  of  my  will  as  I  have  taken,  can,  however,  be 
attained  only  through  an  intimate  conviction  that  it  is  not  merely 
the  highest  active  principle  for  this  world,  —  which  it  certainly 
might  be,  without  having  freedom  in  itself,  by  the  mere  influence 
of  the  system  of  the .  universe,  perchance,  as  we  must  conceive 
of  a  formative  power  in  Nature,  —  but  that  it  absolutely  dis- 
regards all  earthly  objects,  and  generally  all  objects  lying  out  of 
itself,  and  recognises  itself,  for  its  own  sake,  as  its  own  ultimate 
end.  But  by  such  a  view  of  my  will  I  am  at  once  directed  to  a 
super-sensual  order  of  things,  in  which  the  will,  by  itself  alone 
and  without  any  instrument  lying  out  of  itself,  becomes  an  effi- 
cient cause  in  a  sphere  which,  like  itself,  is  purely  spiritual,  and 
is  thoroughly  accessible  to  it.  That  moral  volition  is  demanded 
of  us  absolutely  for  its  own  sake  alone,  —  a  truth  which  I  dis- 
cover only  as  a  fact  in  my  inward  consciousness,  and  to  the  know- 
ledge of  which  I  cannot  attain  in  any  other  way :  —  this  was  the 
first  step  of  my  thought.  That  this  demand  is  reasonable,  and 
the  source  and  standard  of  all  else  that  is  reasonable;  that  it  is 
not  modelled  upon  any  other  thing  whatever,  but  that  all  other 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  519 

things  must,  on  the  contrary,  model  themselves  upon  it,  —  and 
be  dependent  Upon  it,  —  a  conviction  which  also  I  cannot  arrive 
at  from  without,  but  can  attain  only  by  inward  experience,  by 
means  of  the  unhesitating  and  immovable  assent  which  I  freely 
accord  to  this  demand :  —  this  was  the  second  step  of  my  thought. 
And  from  these  two  terms  I  have  attained  to  faith  in  a  super- 
sensual  Eternal  World.  If  I  abandon  the  former,  the  latter  falls 
to  the  ground.  If  it  were  true,  —  as  many  say  it  is,  assuming  it 
without  farther  proof  as  self-evident  and  extolling  it  as  the  high- 
est summit  of  human  wisdom,  —  that  all  human  virtue  must 
have  before  it  a  certain  definite  external  object,  and  that  it  must 
first  be  assured  of  the  possibility  of  attaining  this  object,  before 
it  can  act  and  before  it  can  become  virtue;  that,  consequently, 
preason  by  no  means  contains  within  itself  the  principle  and  the 
standard  of  its  own  activity,  but  must  receive  this  standard  from 
without,  through  contemplation  of  an  external  world ;  —  if  this 
were  true,  then  might  the  ultimate  end  of  our  existence  be 
accomplished  here  below ;  human  nature  might  be  completely 
developed  and  exhausted  by  our  earthly  vocation,  and  we  should 
have  no  rational  ground  for  raising  our  thoughts  above  the  pre- 
sent life. 

But  every  thinker  who  has  anywhere  acquired  those  first 
principles  even  historically,  moved  perhaps  by  a  mere  love  of 
the  new  and  unusual,  and  who  is  able  to  prosecute  a  correct 
course  of  reasoning  from  them,  might  speak  and  teach  as  I  have 
now  spoken  to  myself.  He  would  then  present  us  with  the 
thoughts  of  some  other  being,  not  with  his  own;  everything 
would  float  before  him  empty  and  without  significance,  because 
he  would  be  without  the  sense  whereby  he  might  apprehend  its 
reality.  He  is  a  blind  man,  who,  upon  certain  true  principles 
concerning  colours  which  he  has  learned  historically,  has  built 
a  perfectly  correct  theory  of  colour,  notwithstanding  that  there  is 
in  reality  no  colour  existing  for  him;  —  he  can  tell  how,  under 
certain  conditions,  it  must  be;  but  to  him  it  is  not  so,  because  he 
does  not  stand  under  these  conditions.  The  faculty  by  which 
we  lay  hold  on  Eternal  Life  is  to  be  attained  only  by  actually 


520  FICHTE 

renouncing  the  sensuous  and  its  objects,  and  sacrificing  them 
to  that  law  which  takes  cognizance  of  our  will  only  and  not 
of  our  actions ;  —  renouncing  them  with  the  firmest  conviction 
that  it  is  reasonable  for  us  to  do  so,  —  nay,  that  it  is  the  only 
thing  reasonable  for  us.  By  this  renunciation  of  the  Earthly 
does  faith  in  the  Eternal  first  arise  in  our  soul,  and  is  there 
enshrined  apart,  as  the  only  support  to  which  we  can  cling  after 
we  have  given  up  all  else,  —  as  the  only  animating  principle  that 
can  elevate  our  minds  and  inspire  our  lives.  We  must  indeed,  ac- 
cording to  the  figure  of  a  sacred  doctrine,  first  "die  unto  the  world 
and  be  born  again,  before  we  can  enter  the  kingdom  of  God." 

I  see  —  Oh  I  now  see  clearly  before  me  the  cause  of  my  former 
indifference  and  blindness  concerning  spiritual  things !  Absorbed 
by  mere  earthly  objects,  lost  in  them  with  all  our  thoughts  and 
efforts,  moved  and  urged  onward  only  by  the  notion  of  a  result 
lying  beyond  ourselves,  —  by  the  desire  of  such  a  result  and  of 
our  enjoyment  therein,  —  insensible  and  dead  to  the  pure  im- 
pulse of  reason,  which  gives  a  law  to  itself,  and  offers  to  our  as- 
pirations a  purely  spiritual  end,  —  the  immortal  Psyche  remains, 
with  fettered  pinions,  fastened  to  the  earth.  Our  philosophy 
becomes  the  history  of  our  own  heart  and  life;  and  according 
to  what  we  ourselves  are,  do  we  conceive  of  man  and  his  voca- 
tion. Never  impelled  by  any  other  motive  than  the  desire  after 
what  can  be  actually  realised  in  this  world,  there  is  for  us  no 
true  freedom,  —  no  freedom  which  holds  the  ground  of  its  de- 
termination absolutely  and  entirely  within  itself.  Our  freedom 
is,  at  best,  that  of  the  self- forming  plant ;  not  essentially  higher  in 
its  nature,  but  only  more  artistical  in  its  results ;  not  producing 
a  mere  material  form  with  roots,  leaves,  and  blossoms,  but  a 
mind  with  impulses,  thoughts,  and  actions.  We  cannot  have  the 
slightest  conception  of  true  freedom,  because  we  do  not  our-, 
selves  possess  it;  when  it  is  spoken  of,  we  either  bring  down 
what  is  said  to  the  level  of  our  own  notions,  or  at  once  declare 
all  such  talk  to  be  nonsense.  Without  the  idea  of  freedom,  we 
are  likewise  without  the  faculty  for  another  world.  Everything 
of  this  kind  floats  past  before  us  like  words  that  are  not  addressed 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  521 

to  us ;  like  a  pale  shadow,  without  colour  or  meaning,  which  we 
know  not  how  to  lay  hold  of  or  retain.  We  leave  it  as  we  find 
it,  without  the  least  participation  or  sympathy.  Or  should  we 
ever  be  urged  by  a  more  active  zeal  to  consider  it  seriously,  we 
then  convince  ourselves  to  our  own  satisfaction  that  all  such 
ideas  are  untenable  and  worthless  reveries,  which  the  man  of 
sound  understanding  unhesitatingly  rejects;  and  according  to 
the  premises  from  which  we  proceed,  made  up  as  they  are  of 
our  inward  experiences,  we  are  perfectly  in  the  right,  and  secure 
from  either  refutation  or  conversion  so  long  as  we  remain  what 
we  are.  The  excellent  doctrines  which  are  taught  amongst  us 
with  a  special  authority,  concerning  freedom,  duty,  and  ever- 
lasting life,  become  to  us  romantic  fables,  like  those  of  Tartarus 
and  the  Elysian  fields ;  although  we  do  not  publish  to  the  world 
this  our  secret  opinion,  because  we  find  it  expedient,  by  means 
of  these  figures,  to  maintain  an  outward  decorum  among  the 
populace;  or,  should  we  be  less  reflective,  and  ourselves  bound 
in  the  chains  of  authority,  then  we  sink  to  the  level  of  the  com- 
mon mind,  and  believing  what,  thus  understood,  would  be  mere 
foolish  fables,  we  find  in  those  pure  spiritual  symbols  only  the 
promise  of  continuing  throughout  eternity  the  same  miserable 
existence  which  we  possess  here  below. 

In  one  word :  —  only  by  the  fundamental  improvement  of 
my  will  does  a  new  light  arise  within  me  concerning  my  exist- 
ence and  vocation ;  without  this,  however  much  I  may  speculate, 
and  with  what  rare  intellectual  gifts  soever  I  may  be  endowed, 
darkness  remains  within  me  and  around  me.  The  improvement 
of  the  heart  alone  leads  to  true  wisdom.  Let  then  my  whole  life 
be  unceasingly  devoted  to  this  one  purpose. 

IV 

My  Moral  Will  merely  as  such,  in  and  through  itself,  shall 
certainly  and  invariably  produce  consequences;  every  determi- 
nation of  my  will  in  accordance  with  duty,  although  no  action 
should  follow  it,  shall  operate  in  another,  to  me  incomprehensi- 
ble, world,  in  which  nothing  but  this  moral  determination  of  the 
will  shall  possess  efficient  activity.  What  is  it  that  is  assumed 
in  this  conception? 


522  FICHTE 

Obviously  a  Law;  a  rule  absolutely  without  exception,  accord- 
ing to  which  a  will  determined  by  duty  must  have  consequences ; 
just  as  in  the  material  world  which  surrounds  me  I  assume  a  law 
according  to  which  this  ball,  when  thrown  by  my  hand  with  this 
particular  force,  in  this  particular  direction,  necessarily  moves 
in  such  a  direction  with  a  certain  degree  of  velocity,  —  perhaps 
strikes  another  ball  with  a  certain  amount  of  force,  which  in  its 
turn  moves  on  with  a  certain  velocity,  —  and  so  on.  As  here, 
in  the  mere  direction  and  motion  of  my  hand,  I  already  perceive 
and  apprehend  all  the  consequent  directions  and  movements, 
with  the  same  certainty  as  if  they  were  already  present  before 
me ;  even  so  do  I  embrace  by  means  of  my  virtuous  will  a  series 
of  necessary  and  inevitable  consequences  in  the  spiritual  world, 
as  if  they  were  already  present  before  me;  only  that  I  cannot 
define  them  as  I  do  those  in  the  material  world,  —  that  is,  I  only 
know  that  they  must  be,  but  not  how  they  shall  be ;  —  and  even 
in  doing  this  I  conceive  of  a  Law  of  the  spiritual  world,  in  which 
my  pure  will  is  one  of  the  moving  forces,  as  my  hand  is  one  of 
the  moving  forces  of  the  material  world.  My  own  firm  confidence 
in  these  results,  and  the  conceptions  of  this  Law  of  the  spiritual ' 
world,  are  one  and  the  same ;  —  they  are  not  two  thoughts,  dJie 
of  which  arises  by  means  of  the  other,  but  they  are  entirely  the 
same  thought ;  just  as  the  confidence  with  which  I  calculate  on 
a  certain  motion  in  a  material  body,  and  the  conception  of  a 
mechanical  law  of  nature  on  which  that  motion  depends,  are  one 
and  the  same.  The  conception  of  a  Law  expresses  nothing  more 
than  the  firm,  immovable  confidence  of  reason  in  a  principle, 
and  the  absolute  impossibility  of  admitting  its  opposite. 

I  assume  such  a  law  of  a  spiritual  world,  —  not  given  by  my 
will  nor  by  the  will  of  any  finite  being,  nor  by  the  will  of  all  finite 
beings  taken  together,  but  to  which  my  will,  and  the  will  of  all 
finite  beings,  is  subject.  Neither  I,  nor  any  finite  and  therefore 
sensuous  being,  can  conceive  how  a  mere  will  can  have  conse- 
quences, nor  what  may  be  the  true  nature  of  those  consequences; 
for  herein  consists  the  essential  character  of  our  finite  nature,  — 
that  we  are  unable  to  conceive  this,  —  that  having  indeed  our 
will,  as  such,  wholly  within  our  power,  we  are  yet  compelled  by 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  523 

our  sensuous  nature  to  regard  the  consequences  of  that  will  as 
sensuous  states :  —  how  then  can  I,  or  any  other  finite  being 
whatever,  propose  to  ourselves  as  objects,  and  thereby  give 
reality  to,  that  which  we  can  neither  imagine  nor  conceive?  I 
Cannot  say  that,  in  the  material  world,  my  hand,  or  any  other 
body  which  belongs  to  that  world  and  is  subject  to  the  universal 
law  of  gravity,  brings  this  law  into  operation;  —  these  bodies 
themselves  stand  under  this  law,  and  are  able  to  set  another 
body  in  motion  only  in  accordance  with  this  law,  and  only  in  so 
far  as  that  body,  by  virtue  of  this  law,  partakes  of  the  universal 
moving  power  of  Nature.  Just  as  little  can  a  finite  will  give  a 
law  to  the  super-sensual  world,  which  no  finite  spirit  can  em- 
brace ;  but  all  finite  wills  stand  under  the  law  of  that  world,  and 
can  produce  results  therein  only  inasmuch  as  that  law  already 
exists,  and  inasmuch  as  they  themselves,  in  accordance  with  the 
form  of  that  law  which  is  applicable  to  finite  wills,  bring  them- 
selves under  its  conditions,  and  within  the  sphere  of  its  activ- 
ity by  moral  obedience ;  —  by  moral  obedience,  I  say,  the  only 
tie  which  unites  them  to  that  higher  world,  the  only  nerve  that 
descends  from  it  to  them,  and  the  only  organ  through  which 
they  can  re-act  upon  it.  As  the  universal  power  of  attraction 
embraces  all  bodies,  and  holds  them  together  in  themselves  and 
with  each  other,  and  the  movement  of  each  separate  body  is 
possible  only  on  the  supposition  of  this  power,  so  does  that  super- 
sensual  law  unite,  hold  together,  and  embrace  all  finite  reason- 
able beings.  My  will,  and  the  will  of  all  finite  beings,  may  be 
regarded  from  a  double  point  of  view :  —  partly  as  a  mere  voli- 
tion, an  internal  act  directed  upon  itself  alone,  and,  in  so  far, 
the  will  is  complete  in  itself,  concluded  in  this  act  of  volition ;  — 
partly  as  something  beyond  this,  a  fact.  It  assumes  the  latter 
form  to  me,  as  soon  as  I  regard  it  as  completed ;  but  it  must  also 
become  so  beyond  me :  —  in  the  world  of  sense,  as  the  moving 
principle,  for  instance,  of  my  hand,  from  the  movement  of  which, 
again,  other  movements  follow;  — in  the  super-sensual  worlo^ 
as  the  principle  of  a  series  of  spiritual  consequences  of  whij 
have  no  conception.  In  the  'former  point  of  view,  as 
of  volition,  it  stands  wholly  within  my  own  power  ;J 


524  FICHTE 

tion  of  the  latter  character,  that  of  an  active  first  principle,  de- 
pends not  upon  me,  but  on  a  law  to  which  I  myself  am  subject ; 

—  on  the  law  of  nature  hi  the  world  of  sense,  on  a  super-sensual 
law  in  the  world  of  pure  thought. 

What,  then,  is  this  law  of  the  spiritual  world  which  I  conceive? 
This  idea  now  stands  before  me,  in  fixed  and  perfect  shape;  a 
cannot  and  dare  not  add  anything  whatever  to  it ;  I  have  only 
to  express  and  interpret  it  distinctly.  It  is  obviously  not  such  as 
I  may  suppose  the  principle  of  my  own,  or  any  other  possible 
sensuous  world,  to  be,  —  a  fixed,  inert  existence,  from  which, 
by  the  encounter  of  a  will,  some  internal  power  may  be  evolved, 

—  something  altogether  different  from  a  mere  will.   For,  —  and 
this  is  the  substance  of  my  belief,  — jny  will,  absolutely  by  itself, 
and  without  the  intervention  of  any  instrument  that  might 
weaken  its  expression,  shall  act  in"  a  perfectly  congenial  sphere, 

—  reason  upon  reason,  spirit  upon  spirit ;  —  ina  sphere  to  which 
nevertheless  it  does  not  give  the  law  of  life,  activity,  and  progress, 

but    which   lias   thlflt    law   rr>    if^plf;-       llimiTnh  J~Tipr>n    gplf-arfivp 

reason.  But  self-active  reason  is  will.  The  law  of  the  super- 
sensual  world  must,  therefore,  be  a  Will,  —  a  Will  which  oper- 
ates purely  as  will ;  by  itself,  and  absolutely  without  any  instru- 
ment or  sensible  material  of  its  activity;  which  is,  at  the  same 
time,  both  act  and  product ;  with  whom  to  will  is  to  do,  to  com- 
mand is  to  execute;  in  which  therefore  the  instinctive  demand 
of  reason  for  absolute  freedom  and  independence  is  realised,  — 
a  Will  which  in  itself  is  law ;  determined  by  no  fancy  or  caprice, 
through  no  previous  reflection,  hesitation  or  doubt :  —  but 
eternal,  unchangeable,  on  which  we  may  securely  and  infallibly 
rely,  as  the  physical  man  relies  with  certainty  on  the  laws  of  his 
world :  —  A  Will  in  which  the  moral  will  of  finite  beings,  and 
this  alone,  has  sure  and  unfailing  results ;  since  for  it  all  else  is 
unavailing,  all  else  is  as  if  it  were  not. 

That  sublime  Will  thus  pursues  no  solitary  path  withdrawn 
from  the  other  parts  of  the  world  of  reason.  There  is  a  spiritual 
bond  between  Him  and  all  finite  rational  beings;  and  He  him- 
self is  this  spiritual  bond  of  the  rational  universe.  Let  me  will, 
purely  and  decidedly,  my  duty ;  and  He  wills  that,  in  the  spiritual 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  525 

world  at  least,  my  will  shall  prosper.  Every  moral  resolution 
of  a  finite  being  goes  up  before  Him,  and  —  to  speak  after  the 
manner  of  mortals  —  moves  and  determines  Him,  not  in  con- 
sequence of  a  momentary  satisfaction,  but  in  accordance  with 
the  eternal  law  of  His  being.  With  surprising  clearness  does  this 
thought,  which  hitherto  was  surrounded  with  darkness,  now 
reveal  itself  to  my  soul ;  the  thought  that  my  will,  merely  as  such, 
and  through 'itself,  shall  have  results.  It  has  results,  because  it 
is  immediately  and  infallibly  perceived  by  another  Will  to  which 
it  is  related,  which  is  its  own  accomplishment  and  the  only  living 
principle  of  the  spiritual  world;  in  Him  it  has  its  first  results, 
and  through  Him  it  acquires  an  influence  on  the  whole  spiritual 
world,  which  throughout  is  but  a  product  of  that  Infinite  Will. 

Thus  do  I  approach  —  the  mortal  must  speak  in  his  own 
language  —  thus  do  I  approach  that  Infinite  Will ;  and  the  voice 
of  conscience  in  my  soul,  which  teaches  me  in  every  situation  of 
life  what  I  have  there  to  do,  is  the. channel  through  which  again 
His  influence  descends  upon  me.  That  voice,  sensualized  by 
my  environment,  and  translated  into  my  language,  is  the  oracle 
of  the  Eternal  World  which  announces  to  me  how  I  am  to  per- 
form my  part  in  the  order  of  the  spiritual  universe,  or  in  the 
Infinite  Will  who  is  Himself  that  order. .  I  cannot,  indeed,  survey 
or  comprehend  that  spiritual  order,  and  I  need  not  to  do  so ;  — 
I  am  but  a  link  in  its  chain,  and  can  no  more  judge  of  the  whole, 
than  a  single  tone  of  music  can  judge  of  the  entire  harmony  of 
which  it  forms  a  part.  But  what  I  myself  ought  to  be  in  this 
harmony  of  spirits  I  must  know,  for  it  is  only  I  myself  who  can 
make  me  so,  —  and  this  is  immediately  revealed  to  me  by  a  voice 
whose  tones  descend  upon  me  from  that  other  world.  Thus  do 
I  stand  connected  with  the  ONE  who  alone  has  existence,  and • 
thus  do  I  participate  in  His  being.  There  is  nothing  real,  lasting, 
imperishable  in  me,  but  these  two  elements :  —  the  voice  of 
conscience,  and  my  free  obedience.  By  the  first,  the  spiritual 
world  bows  down  to  me,  and  embraces  me  as  one  of  its  members ; 
by  the  second  I  raise  myself  into  this  world,  apprehend  it,  and 
re-act  upon  it.  That  Infinite  Will  is  the  mediator  between  it  and 
me ;  for  He  himself  is  the  original  source  both  of  it  and  me.  This 


526  FICHTE 

is  the  one  True  and  Imperishable  for  which  my  soul  yearns  even 
from  its  inmost  depths ;  all  else  is  mere  appearance,  ever  vanish- 
ing, and  ever  returning  in  a  new  semblance. 

This  Will  unites  me  with  himself;  He  also  unites  me  with  all 
finite  beings  like  myself,  and  is  the  common  mediator  between 
us  all.  This  is  the  great  mystery  of  the  invisible  world,  and  its 
fundamental  law,  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  world  or  system  of  many 
individual  wills :  —  the  union,  and  direct  reciprocal  action,  of 
many  separate  and  independent  wills;  a  mystery  which  already 
lies  clearly  before  every  eye  in  the  present  life,  without  attracting 
the  notice  of  any  one,  or  being  regarded  as  in  any  way  wonderful. 
The  voice  of  conscience,  which  imposes  on  each  his  particular 
duty,  is  the  light-beam  on  which  we  come  forth  from  the  bosom 
of  the  Infinite,  and  assume  our  place  as  particular  individual 
beings ;  it  fixes  the  limits  of  our  personality ;  it  is  thus  the  true 
original  element  of  our  nature,  the  foundation  and  material  of 
all  our  life.  The  absolute  freedom  of  the  will,  which  we  bring 
down  with  us  from  the  Infinite  into  the  world  of  Time,  is  the 
principle  of  this  our  life.  I  act :  —  and,  the  sensible  intuition 
through  which  alone  I  become  a  personal  intelligence  being 
supposed,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  how  I  must  necessarily  know  of 
this  my  action,  —  I  know  it,  because  it  is  I  myseff  who  act ;  — 
it  is  easy  to  conceive  how,  by  means  of  this  sensible  intuition, 
my  spiritual  act  appears  to  me  as  a  fact  in  a  world  of  sense ;  and 
how,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  same  sensualization,  the  law  of 
duty  which,  in  itself,  is  a  purely  spiritual  law,  should  appear  to 
me  as  the  command  to  such  an  action ;  —  it  is  easy  to  conceive, 
how  an  actually  present  world  should  appear  to  me  as  the  con- 
dition of  this  action,  and,  in  part,  as  the  consequence  and  pro- 
duct of  it.  Thus  far  I  remain  within  myself  and  upon  my  own 
territory;  everything  here,  which  has  an  existence  for  me,  un- 
folds itself  purely  and  solely  from  myself;  I  see  everywhere  only 
myself,  and  no  true  existence  'out  of  myself.  But  in  this  my 
world  I  admit,  also,  the  operations  of  other  beings,  separate  and 
independent  of  me,  as  much  as  I  of  them.  How  these  beings 
can  themselves  know  of  the  influences  which  proceed  from  them, 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  527 

may  easily  be  conceived;  they  know  of  them  in  the  same  way 
in  which  I  know  of  my  own.  But  how  I  can  know  of  them  is 
absolutely  inconceivable ;  just  as  it  is  inconceivable  how  they 
can  possess  that  knowledge  of  my  existence,  and  its  manifesta- 
tions, which  nevertheless  I  ascribe  to  them.  How  do  they  come 
within  my  world,  or  I  within  theirs,  —  since  the  principle  by 
which  the  consciousness  of  ourselves,  of  our  operations,  and  of 
their  sensuous  conditions,  is  deduced  from  ourselves,  —  i.  e., 
that  each  individual  must  undoubtedly  know  what  he  himself 
does,  —  is  here  wholly  inapplicable  ?  How  have  free  spirits 
knowledge  of  free  spirits,  since  we  know  that  free  spirits  are  the 
only  reality,  and  that  an  independent  world  of  sense,  through 
which  they  might  act  on  each  other,  is  no  longer  to  be  taken 
into  account.  Or  shall  it  be  said,  —  I  perceive  reasonable  be- 
ings like  myself  by  the  changes  which  they  produce  in  the  world 
of  sense  ?  Then  I  ask  again,  —  How  dost  thou  perceive  these 
changes?  I  comprehend  very  well  how  thou  canst  perceive 
changes  which  are  brought  about  by  the  mere  mechanism  of 
nature ;  for  the  law  of  this  mechanism  is  no  other  than  the  law 
of  thy  own  thought,  according  to  which,  this  world  being  once 
assumed,  it  is  carried  out  into  farther  developments.  But  the 
changes  of  which  we  now  speak  are  not  brought  about  by  the 
mere  mechanism  of  nature,  but  by  a  free  will  elevated  above  all 
nature;  and  only  in  so  far  as  thou  canst  regard  them  in  this 
character,  canst  thou  infer  from  them  the  existence  of  free  beings 
like  thyself.  Where  then  is  the  law  within  thyself,  according  to 
which  thou  canst  realize  the  determinations  of  other  wills  abso- 
lutely independent  of  thee?  In  short,  this  mutual  recognition 
and  reciprocal  action  of  free  beings  in  this  world,  is  perfectly 
inexplicable  by  the  laws  of  nature  or  of  thought,  and  can  be 
explained  only  through  the  One  in  whom  they  are  united,  al- 
though to  each  other  they  are  separate;  through  the  Infinite 
Will  who  sustains  and  embraces  them  all  in  His  own  sphere. 
Not  immediately  from  thee  to  me,  nor  from  me  to  thee,  flows 
forth  the  knowledge  which  we  have  of  each  other ;  —  we  are 
separated  by  an  insurmountable  barrier.  Only  through  the  com- 
mon fountain  of  our  spiritual  being  do  we  know  of  each  other; 


528  FICHTE 

only  in  Him  do  we  recognise  each  other,  and  influence  each  other. 
"Here  reverence  the  image  of  freedom  upon  the  earth;  —  here, 
a  work  which  bears  its  impress :"  —  thus  is  it  proclaimed  within 
me  by  the  voice  of  that  Will,  which  speaks  to  me  only  in  so  far 
as  it  imposes  duties  upon  me ;  —  and  the  only  principle  through 
which  I  recognise  thee  and  thy  work,  is  the  command  of  con- 
science to  respect  them. 

Whence,  then,  our  feelings,  our  sensible  intuitions,  our  dis- 
cursive laws  of  thought,  on  all  which  is  founded  the  external 
world  which  we  behold,  in  which  we  believe  that  we  exert  an 
influence  on  each  other?  With  respect  to  the  two  last — our  sen- 
sible intuitions  and  our  laws  of  thought  —  to  say,  these  are  laws 
of  reason  in  itself,  is  only  to  give  no  satisfactory  answer  at  all. 
For  us,  indeed,  who  are  excluded  from  the  pure  domain  of  reason 
in  itself,  it  may  be  impossible  to  think  otherwise,  or  to  conceive 
of  reason  under  any  other  law/  But  the  true  law  of  reason  in 
itself  is  the  practical  law,  the  law  of  the  super-sensual  world,  or 
of  that  sublime  Will.  And,  leaving  this  for  a  moment  undecided, 
whence  comes  our  universal  agreement  as  to  feelings,  which, 
nevertheless,  are  something  positive,  immediate,  inexplicable? 
On  this  agreement  in  feeling,  perception,  and  in  the  laws  of 
thought,  however,  it  depends  that  we  all  behold  the  same  ex- 
ternal world. 

"It  is  a  harmonious,  although  inconceivable,  limitation  of 
the  infinite  rational  beings  who  compose  our  race;  and  only  by 
means  of  such  a  harmonious  limitation  do  they  become  a  race :" 
-thus  answers  the  philosophy  of  mere  knowledge,  and  here 
it  must  rest  as  its  highest  point.  But  what  can  set  a  limit  to  rea- 
son but  reason  itself  ?  —  what  can  limit  all  finite  reason  but  the 
Infinite  Reason?  This  universal  agreement  concerning  a  sen- 
sible world, — assumed  and  accepted  by  us  as  the  foundation  of 
all  our  other  life,  and  as  the  sphere  of  our  duty  —  which,  strictly 
considered,  is  just  as  incomprehensible  as  our  unanimity  con- 
cerning the  products  of  our  reciprocal  freedom,  —  this  agree- 
ment is  the  result  of  the  One  Eternal  Infinite  Will.  Our  faith, 
of  which  we  have  spoken  as  faith  in  duty,  is  only  faith  in  Him, 
in  His  reason,  in  His  truth.  What,  then,  is  the  peculiar  and 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  529 

essential  truth  which  we  accept  in  the  world  of  sense,  and  in 
~which  we  believe?'  Nothing  less  than  that  from  our  free  and 
faithful  performance  of  our  duty  in  this _worlcL  there  will  arise 
to^usthroughout  eternity  ajife  in  which  our  freedom  and  morality 
may  still  continue  their  development Xlf  this  be  true,  then  in- 
deed is  there  truth  in  our  world,  and  the  only  truth  possible  for 
finite  beings;  and  it  must  be  true,  for  this  world  is  the  result 
of  the  Eternal  Will  in  us,  —  and  that  Will,  by  the  law  of  His1 
own  being,  can  have  no  other  purpose  with  respect  to  finite  be- 
ings, than  that  which  we  have  set  forth. 

That  Eternal  Will  is  thus  assuredly  the  Creator  of  the  World, 
in  the  only  way  in  which  He  can  be  so,  and  in  the  only  way  in 
which  it  needs  creation :  —  in  the  finite  reason.  Those  who  re- 
gard Him  as  building  up  a  world  from  an  everlasting  inert  matter, 
which  must  still  remain  inert  and  lifeless,  —  like  a  vessel  made 
by  human  hands,  not  an  eternal  procession  of  His  self-develop- 
ment, —  or  who  ascribe  to  Him  the  production  of  a  material 
universe  out  of  nothing,  know  neither  the  world  nor  Him.  If 
matter  only  can  be  reality,  then  were  the  world  indeed  nothing, 
and  throughout  all  eternity  would  remain  nothing.  Reason 
alone  exists :  —  the  Infinite  in  Himself  —  the  finite  in  Him  and 
through  Him.  Only  in  our  minds  has  He  created  a  world;  at 
least  that  lTnW-  ™hir.h  we  npfnlrl  rt}  arid  that  hy  wfr/ffy  we  imfolfl 
it ;  — -  the  voice  of  duty,  and  harmonious  feelings,  intuitions, 
and  laws  of  thought/  It  is  His  light  through  which  we  behold 
the  light,  and  all  that  it  reveals  to  us.  In  our  minds  He  still 
creates  this  world,  and  acts  upon  it  by  acting  upon  our  minds 
through  the  call  of  duty,  as  soon  as  another  free  being  changes 
aught  therein.  In  our  minds  He  upholds  this  world,  and  thereby 
the  finite  existence  of  which  alone  we  are  capable,  by  continually 
evolving  from  each  state  of  our  existence  other  states  in  succes- 
sion. When  He  shall  have  sufficiently  proved  us  according  to 
His  supreme  designs,  for  our  next  succeeding  vocation,  and  we 
shall  have  sufficiently  cultivated  ourselves  for  entering  upon  it, 
then,  by  that  which  we  call  death,  will  He  annihilate  for  us  this 
life,  and  introduce  us  to  a  new  life,  the  product  of  our  virtuous 
actions.  All  our  life  is  His  life.  We  are  in  His  hand,  and  abide 


530  FICHTE 

therein,  and  no  one  can  pluck  us  out  of  His  hand.  We  are  eternal, 
because  He  is  eternal. 

Sublime  and  Living  Will !  named  by  no  name,  compassed  by 
no  thought !  I  may  well  raise  my  soul  to  Thee,  for  Thou  and  I 
are  not  divided.  Thy  voice  sounds  within  me,  mine  resounds  in 
Thee ;  and  all  my  thoughts,  if  they  be  but  good  and  true,  live 
in  Thee  also.  In  Thee,  the  Incomprehensible,  I  myself,  and  the 
world  in  which  I  live,  become  clearly  comprehensible  to  me; 
all  the  secrets  of  my  existence  are  laid  open,  and  perfect  harmony 
arises  in  my  soul. 

Thou  art  best  known  to  the  child-like,  devoted,  simple  mind. 
To  it  Thou  art  the  searcher  of  hearts,  who  seest  its  inmost  depths ; 
the  ever-present  true  witness  of  its  thoughts,  who  knowest  its 
truth,  who  knowest  it  though  all  the  world  know  it  not.  Thou 
art  the  Father  who  ever  desirest  its  good,  who  rulest  all  things 
for  the  best.  To  Thy  will  it  unhesitatingly  resigns  itself:  "Do 
with  me,"  it  says,  "what  thou  wilt;  I  know  that  it  is  good,  for 
it  is  Thou  who  doest  it."  The  inquisitive  understanding,  which 
has  heard  of  Thee,  but  seen  Thee  not,  would  teach  us  thy  nature ; 
and  as  Thy  image,  shows  us  a  monstrous  and  incongruous  shape, 
which  the  sagacious  laugh  at,  and  the  wise  and  good  abhor. 

I  hide  my  face  before  Thee,  and  lay  my  hand  upon  my  mouth. 
How  Thou  art,  and  seemest  txTThine  own  being,  I  can  never 
know,  any  more  than  I  can  assume  Thy  nature.  After  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  spirit-lives,  I  shall  comprehend  Thee 
as  little  as  I  do  now  in  this  earthly  house.  That  which  I  conceive, 
becomes  finite  through  my  very  conception  of  it;  and  this  can 
never,  even  by  endless  exaltation,  rise  into  the  Infinite.  Thou 
differest  from  men,  not  in  degree  but  in  nature.  In  every  stage 
of  their  advancement  they  think  of  Thee  as  a  greater  man,  and 
still  a  greater;  but  never  as  God  —  the  Infinite,  —  whom  no 
measure  can  mete.  I  have  only  this  discursive,  progressive 
thought,  and  I  can  conceive  of  no  other :  —  how  can  I  venture 
to  ascribe  it  to  Thee?  In  the  Idea  of  person  there  are  imper- 
fections, limitations :  —  how  can  I  clothe  Thee  with  it  without 
these? 

I  will  not  attempt  that  which  the  imperfection  of  my  finite 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  531 

nature  forbids,  and  which  would  be  useless  to  me :  —  How  Thou 
art,  I  may  not  know.  But,  let  me  be  what  I  ought  to  be,  and 
Thy  relations  to  me  —  the  mortal  —  and  to  all  mortals,  lie  open 
before  my  eyes,  and  surround  me  more  clearly  than  the  con- 
sciousness of  my  own  existence.  Thou  workest  in*me  the  know- 
ledge of  my  duty,  of  my  vocation  in  the  world  of  reasonable 
beings ;  —  how,  I  know  not,  nor  need  I  to  know.  Thou  knowest 
what  I  think  and  what  I  will :  —  how  Thou  canst  know,  through 
what  act  thou  bringest  about  that  consciousness,  I  cannot  under- 
stand, —  nay,  I  know  that  the  idea  of  an  act,  of  a  particular 
act  of  consciousness,  belongs  to  me  alone,  and  not  to  Thee, 
—  the  Infinite  One.  Thou  wiliest  that  my  free  obedience  shall 
bring  with  it  eternal  consequences :  —  the  act  of  Thy  will  I 
cannot  comprehend,  I  only  know  that  it  is  not  like  mine.  Thou 
doest,  and  Thy  will  itself  is  the  deed ;  but  the  way  of  Thy  work- 
ing is  not  as  my  ways,  —  I  cannot  trace  it.  Thou  lives t  and  art, 
for  Thou  knowest  and  wiliest  and  workest,  omnipresent  to  finite 
Reason ;  but  Thou  art  not  as  /  now  and  always  must  conceive 
of  being. 

In  the  contemplations  of  these  Thy  relations  to  me,  the  finite 
being,  will  I  rest  in  calm  blessedness.  I  know  immediately 
only  what  I  ought  to  do.  This  will  I  do,  freely,  joyfully,  and 
without  cavilling  or  sophistry,  for  it  is  Thy  voice  which  com- 
mands me  to  do  it ;  it  is  the  part  assigned  to  me  in  the  spiritual 
World-plan ;  and  the  power  with  which  I  shall  perform  it  is  Thy 
power.  Whatever  may  be  commanded  by  that  voice,  whatever 
executed  by  that  power,  is,  in  that  plan,  assuredly  and  truly  good. 
I  remain  tranquil  amid  all  the  events  of  this  world,  for  they  are 
in  Thy  world.  Nothing  can  perplex  or  surprise  or  dishearten 
me,  as  surely  as  Thou  livest,  and  I  can  look  upon  Thy  life.  For 
in  Thee,  and  through  Thee,  O  Infinite  One !  do  I  behold  even 
my  present  world  in  another  light.  Nature,  and  natural  conse- 
quences, in  the  destinies  and  conduct  of  free  beings,  as  opposed 
to  Thee,  become  empty,  unmeaning  words.  Nature  is  no  longer ; 
Thou,  only  Thou,  art.  It  no  longer  appears  to  me  to  be  the  end 
and  purpose  of  the  present  world  to  produce  that  state  of  uni- 


532  FICHTE 

versal  peace  among  men,  and  of  unlimited  dominion  over  the 
mechanism  of  nature,  for  its  own  sake  alone,  —  but  that  this 
should  be  produced  by  man  himself,  —  and,  since  it  is  expected 
from  all,  that  it  should  be  produced  by  all,  as  one  great,  free, 
moral,  community.  Nothing  new  and  better  for  an  individual 
shall  be  attainable,  except  through  his  own  virtuous  will ;  nothing 
new  and  better  for  a  community,  except  through  the  common 
will  being  in  accordance  with  duty:  —  this  is  a  fundamental 
law  of  the  great  moral  empire,  of  which  the  present  life  is  a  part. 
The  good  will  of  the  individual  is  thus  often  lost  to  this  world, 
because  it  is  but  the  will  of  the  individual,  and  the  will  of  the 
majority  is  not  in  harmony  with  his,  —  and  then  its  results  are 
to  be  found  solely  in  a  future  world ;  while  even  the  passions  and 
vices  of  men  cooperate  in  the  attainment  of  good,  —  not  in  and 
for  themselves,  for  in  this  sense  good  can  never  come  out  of  evil, 
but  by  holding  the  balance  against  the  opposite  vices,  and,  at 
last,  by  their  excess,  annihilating  these  antagonists,  and  them- 
selves with  them.  Oppression  could  never  have  gained  the  upper 
hand  in  human  affairs,  unless  the  cowardice,  baseness,  and 
mutual  mistrust  of  men  had  smoothed  the  way  to  it.  It  will  con- 
tinue to  increase,  until  it -extirpate  cowardice  and  slavishness; 
and  despair  itself  at  last  reawaken  courage.  Then  shall  the  two 
opposite  vices  have  annihilated  each  other,  and  the  noblest  of 
all  human  relations,  lasting  freedom,  come  forth  from  their 
antagonism. 

The  actions  of  free  beings,  strictly  considered,  have  results 
only  in  other  free  beings ;  for  in  them,  and  for  them  alone,  there 
is  a  world ;  and  that  in  which  they  all  agree,  is  itself  the  world. 
But  they  have  these  results  only  through  the  Infinite  Will,  — 
the  medium  through  which  all  individual  beings  influence  each 
other.  But  the  announcement,  the  publication  of  this  Will  to  us, 
is  always  a  call  to  a  particular  duty.  Thus  even  what  we  call 
evil  in  the  world,  the  consequence  of  the  abuse  of  freedom,  exists 
only  through  Him ;  and  it  exists  for  those  who  experience  it  only 
in  so  far  as,  through  it,  duties  are  laid  upon  them.  Were  it  not 
in  the  eternal  plan  of  our  moral  culture,  and  the  culture  of  our 
whole  race,  that  precisely  these  duties  should  be  laid  upon  us, 


THE  VOCATION  OF  MAN  533 

they  would  not  be  so  laid  upon  us ;  and  that  through  which  they 
are  laid  upon  us  —  i.  e.  what  we  call  evil  —  would  not  have  been 
produced.  In  so  far,  everything  that  is,  is  good,  and  absolutely 
legitimate.  There  is  but  one  world  possible,  —  a  thoroughly 
good  world.  All  that  happens  in  this  world  is  subservient  to  the 
improvement  and  culture  of  man,  and,  by  means  of  this,  to  the 
promotion  of  the  purpose  of  his  earthly  existence.  It  is  this 
higher  World-plan  which  we  call  Nature,  when  we  say,  —  Na- 
ture leads  men  through  want  to  industry;  through  the  evils  of 
general  disorder  to  a  just  constitution ;  through  the  miseries  of 
continual  wars  to  endless  peace  on  earth.  Thy  will,  O  Infinite 
One !  thy  Providence  alone,  is  this  higher  Nature.  This,  too,  is 
best  understood  by  artless  simplicity,  when  it  regards  this  life 
as  a  place  of  trial  and  culture,  as  a  school  for  eternity ;  when, 
in  all  the  events  of  life,  the  most  trivial  as  well  as  the  most  im- 
portant, it  beholds  thy  guiding  Providence  disposing  all  for  the 
best ;  when  it  firmly  believes  that  all  things  must  work  together 
for  the  good  of  those  who  love  their  duty,  and  who  know  Thee. 

All  Death  in  Nature  is  Birth,  and  in  Death  itself  appears 
visibly  the  exaltation  of  Life.  There  is  no  destructive  principle 
in  Nature,  for  Nature  throughout  is  pure,  unclouded  Life ;  it  is 
not  Death  which  kills,  but  the  more  living  Life,  which,  concealed 
behind  the  former,  bursts  forth  into  new  development.  Death 
and  Birth  are  but  the  struggle  of  Life  with  itself  to  assume  a 
more  glorious  and  congenial  form.  And  my  death,  —  how  can 
it  be  aught  else,  since  I  am  not  a  mere  show  and  semblance  of 
life,  but  bear  within  me  the  one  original,  true,  and  essential 
Life  ?  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  that  Nature  should  annihilate 
a  life  which  does  not  proceed  from  her ;  —  the  Nature  which 
exists  for  me,  and  not  I  for  her. 

Yet  even  my  natural  life,  even  this  mere  outward  manifesta- 
tion to  mortal  sight  of  the  inward  invisible  Life,  she  cannot 
destroy  without  destroying  herself;  —  she  who  only  exists  for 
me,  and  on  account  of  me,  and  exists  not  if  I  am  not.  Even 
because  she  destroys  me  must  she  animate  me  anew;  it  is  only 
my  Higher  Life,  unfolding  itself  in  her,  before  which  my  present 


534 


FICHTE 


life  can  disappear;  and  what  mortals  call  Death  is  the  visible 
appearance  of  this  second  Life.  Did  no  reasonable  being  who 
had  once  beheld  the  light  of  this  world  die,  there  would  be  no 
ground  to  look  with  faith  for  a  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  ; 
the  only  possible  purpose  of  Nature,  to  manifest  and  maintain 
Reason,  would  be  fulfilled  here  below,  and  her  circle  would  be 
completed.  But  the  very  act  by  which  she  consigns  a  free  and 
independent  being  to  death,  is  her  own  solemn  entrance,  intel- 
ligible to  all  Reason,  into  a  region  beyond  this  act  itself,  and 
beyond  the  whole  sphere  of  existence  which  is  thereby  closed. 
Death  is  the  ladder  by  which  my  spiritual  vision  rises  to  a  new 
Life  and  a  new  Nature. 

Every  one  of  my  fellow-creatures  who  leaves  this  earthly 
brotherhood  and  whom  my  spirit  cannot  regard  as  annihilated 
because  he  is  my  brother,  draws  my  thoughts  after  him  beyond 
the  grave ;  —  he  is  still,  and  to  him  belongs  a  place.  While  we 
mourn  for  him  here  below,  as  in  the  dim  realms  of  unconscious- 
ness there  might  be  mourning  when  a  man  bursts  from  them 
into  the  light  of  this  world's  sun,  —  above  there  is  rejoicing  that 
a  man  is  born  into  that  world,  as  we  citizens  of  the  earth  receive 
with  joy  those  who  are  born  unto  us.  When  I  shall  one  day 
follow,  it  will  be  but  joy  for  me ;  sorrow  shall  remain  behind  in 
the  sphere  I  shall  have  left. 

The  world  on  which  but  now  I  gazed  with  wonder  passes 
away  from  before  me  and  sinks  from  my  sight.  With  all  the 
fulness  of  life,  order,  and  increase  which  I  beheld  in  it,  it  is 
yet  but  the  curtain  by  which  a  world  infinitely  more  perfect  is 
concealed  from  me,  and  the  germ  from  which  that  other  shall 
develop  itself.  My  FAITH  looks  behind  this  veil,  and  cherishes 
and  animates  this  germ.  It  sees  nothing  definite,  but  it  expects 
more  than  it  can  conceive  here  below,  more  than  it  will  ever  be 
able  to  conceive  in  all  time. 

Thus  do  I  live,  thus  am  I,  and  thus  am  I  unchangeable,  firm, 
and  completed  for  all  Eternity ;  —  for  this  is  no  existence  as- 
sumed from  without,  —  it  is  my  own,  true,  essential  Life  and 
Being. 


FRIEDRIGH  WILHELM  VON 

SGHELLING 

(1775-1854) 

SYSTEM  OF  TRANSCENDENTAL   IDEALISM 

Translated  from  the  German*  by 
BENJAMIN   RAND 

INTRODUCTION    TO    IDEALISM 

SECTION  I.  IDEA  OF  TRANSCENDENTAL  PHILOSOPHY 

i.  ALL  knowledge  is  based  upon  the  agreement  of  an  objective 
with  a  subjective.  For  we  know  only  the  true,  and  the  truth  is 
universally  held  to  be  the  agreement  of  representations  with  their 
objects. 

2.  The  sum  of  all  that  is  purely  objective  in  our  knowledge 
we  may  call  Nature ;  whereas  the  sum  of  everything  subjective 
may  be  termed  the  Ego,  or  Intelligence.    These  two  concepts  are 
mutually  opposed.    Intelligence  is  originally  conceived  as  that 
which  solely  represents,  and  nature  as  that  which  is  merely  ca- 
pable of  representation;  the  former  as  the  conscious — the  latter 
as  the  unconscious.    But  in  all  knowledge  there  is  necessary  a 
mutual  agreement  of  the  two  —  the  conscious  and  the  uncon- 
scious per  se.   The  problem  is  to  explain  this  agreement. 

3.  In  knowledge  itself,  in  that  I  know,  the  objective  and  sub- 
jective are  so  united  that  one  cannot  say  which  of  the  two  has 
priority.    There  is  here  no  first  and  no  second  —  the  two  are 
contemporaneous  and  one.   In  any  attempt  to  explain  this  iden- 
tity, I  must  already  have  resolved  it.   In  order  to  explain  it,  in- 
asmuch as  there  is  nothing  else  given  me  as  a  principle  of 
explanation  except  these  two  factors  of  knowledge,  I  must  of 
necessity  place  the  one  before  the  other,  that  is  to  say,  must  set 
out  from  the  one  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  other.   From  which  of 
the  two  I  shall  set  out  is  not  determined  by  the  problem. 

*  From  the  System  des  transcendentalen  Idealismus,  Tubingen,  1800. 


536  SCHELLING 

4.  There  are,  consequently,  only  two  cases  possible: 

A.  Either  the  objective  is  made  first,  and  the  question  arises 
how  a  subjective  agreeing  with  it  is  superinduced. 

The  idea  of  the  subjective  is  not  contained  in  the  idea  of  the 
objective;  on  the  contrary  they  mutually  exclude  each  other. 
The  subjective  must  therefore  be  superinduced  upon  the  objec- 
tive. It  forms  no  part  of  the  conception  of  Nature  that  there 
must  be  likewise  an  intelligence  to  represent  it.  Nature,  to  all 
appearance,  would  exist  even  if  there  were  nothing  to  represent 
it.  The  problem  may  therefore  likewise  be  expressed  thus: 
How  is  the  Intelligent  superinduced  upon  Nature?  or,  How 
does  Nature  come  to  be  represented? 

The  problem  assumes  Nature,  or  the  objective,  as  the  first. 
It  is,  therefore,  undoubtedly  the  task  of  natural  science,  which 
does  the  same.  That  natural  science  actually,  and  without  know- 
ing it,  approximates,  at  least,  to  the  solution  of  this  problem 
can  here  be  only  briefly  shown. 

If  all  knowledge  has,  as  it  were,  two  poles,  which  mutually 
presuppose  and  demand  each  other,  then  they  must  seek  each 
other  in  all  sciences.  There  must,  therefore,  of  necessity,  exist 
two  fundamental  sciences ;  and  it  must  be  impossible  to  set  out 
from  one  pole  without  being  driven  to  the  other.  The  necessary 
tendency  of  all  natural  science,  therefore,  is  to  proceed  from 
Nature  to  the  intelligent.  This,  and  this  alone,  lies  at  the  foun- 
dation of  the  effort  to  bring  theory  into  natural  phenomena. 
The  final  perfection  of  natural  science  would  be  the  complete 
intellectualization  of  all  the  laws  of  Nature  into  laws  of  intuition 
and  of  thought.  The  phenomena,  that  is,  the  material,  must 
completely  vanish,  and  leave  only  the  laws,  —  that  is,  the  formal. 
Hence  it  happens  that  the  more  the  conformity  to  law  is  mani- 
fested in  Nature,  so  much  the  more  the  wrapping  disappears  — 
the  phenomena  themselves  become  more  intellect ualized,  and 
at  length  entirely  cease.  Optical  phenomena  are  nothing  more 
than  a  geometry  whose  lines  are  drawn  by  aid  of  the  light ;  and 
even  this  light  itself  is  already  of  doubtful  materiality.  In  the 
phenomena  of  magnetism  every  trace  of  matter  has  alreadv 
vanished ;  and  of  the  phenomena  of  gravitation,  which  even  the 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          537 

natural  philosopher  believed  could  be  attributed  only  to  direct 
spiritual  influence,  there  remains  nothing  but  their  law,  whose 
performance  on  a  large  scale  is  the  mechanism  of  the  heavenly 
motions.  The  complete  theory  of  Nature  would  be  that  by  virtue* 
of  which  the  whole  of  Nature  should  be  resolved  into  an  intelli-f 
gence.  The  dead  and  unconscious  products  of  Nature  are  only 
unsuccessful  attempts  of  Nature  to  reflect  itself,  but  the  so- 
called  dead  Nature  is  merely  an  unripe  Intelligence ;  hence  in 
its  phenomena  the  intelligent  character  appears,  though  still 
unconscious.  Its  highest  aim,  that  is  of  becoming  wholly  self- 
objective,  Nature  does  not  attain,  except  in  its  highest  and  last 
reflection,  which  is  none  other  than  man,  or  more  generally 
what  we  call  reason.  By  its  means  Nature  first  turns  completely 
back  upon  itself,  and  thereby  it  is  manifest  that  Nature  is  origi- 
nally identical  with  what  in  us  is  known  as  intelligent  and  con- 
scious. 

This  may  suffice  to  prove  that  natural  science  has  a  neces- 
sary tendency  to  render  Nature  intelligent.  By  this  very  ten- 
dency it  becomes  natural  philosophy,  which  is  one  of  the  two 
necessary  fundamental  sciences  of  philosophy. 

B.  Or  the  subjective  is  made  first,  and  the  problem  is,  how  an 
objective  is  superinduced  agreeing  with  it. 

If  all  knowledge  is  based  upon  the  agreement  of  these  two, 
then  the  problem  to  explain  this  agreement  is  undoubtedly  the 
highest  for  all  knowledge;  and  if,  as  is  generally  admitted, 
philosophy  is  the  highest  and  loftiest  of  all  sciences,  it  becomes 
certainly  the  chief  task  of  philosophy. 

But  the  problem  demands  only  the  explanation  of  that  agree- 
ment generally,  and  leaves  it  entirely  undetermined  where  the 
explanation  shall  begin,  what  it  shall  make  its  first,  and  what 
its  second.   Since  also  the  two  opposites  are  mutually  necessary, 
the  result  of  the  operation  is  the  same,  from  whichever  point  one 
sets  out.  To  make  the  objective  the  first,  and  to  derive  the  sub- 1 
jective  from  it,  is,  as  has  just  been  shown,  the  task  of  natural  I 
philosophy. 

If,  therefore,  there  is  a  transcendental  philosophy,  the  only 
direction  remaining  for  it  is  the  opposite, that  is:  to  proceed frorr 


538  SCHELLING 

the  subjective  as  the  first  and  the  absolute,  and  to  deduce  the 
origin  of  the  objective  from  it.  Natural  and  transcendental 
philosophy  have  divided  between  themselves  these  two  possible 
directions  of  philosophy.  And  if  all  philosophy  must  have  for 
an  aim  to  make  either  an  Intelligence  out  of  Nature  or  a  Na- 
ture out  of  Intelligence,  then  transcendental  philosophy,  to  which 
this  latter  problem  belongs,  is  the  other  necessary  fundamental 
science  of  philosophy. 

SECTION  II.    COROLLARIES 

In  the  foregoing  we  have  not  only  deduced  the  concept  of 
transcendental  philosophy,  but  have  at  the  same  time  afforded 
the  reader  a  glance  into  the  whole  system  of  philosophy.  It  is 
composed,  as  has  been  shown,  of  two  fundamental  sciences, 
which  though  opposed  to  one  another  in  principle  and  direction, 
reciprocally  demand  and  supplement  each  other.  Not  the  en- 
tire system  of  philosophy,  but  only  the  one  fundamental  science 
of  it,  is  here  to  be  set  up,  and,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  more 
strictly  characterized  in  accordance  with  the  idea  of  it  already 
deduced. 

i.  If,  for  transcendental  philosophy,  the  subjective  is  the 
first  and  only  ground  of  all  reality,  and  the  sole  principle  of 
explanation  of  everything  else  (§  i),  then  it  necessarily  begins 
with  universal  doubt  regarding  the  reality  of  the  objective. 

As  the  natural  philosopher,  wholly  intent  upon  the  objective, 
seeks  nothing  so  much  as  to  exclude  every  admixture  of  the 
subjective  in  his  knowledge,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  the  tran- 
scendental philosopher  seeks  nothing  so  much  as  the  entire  ex- 
clusion of  the  objective  from  the  purely  subjective  principle  of 
knowledge.  The  means  of  separation  is  absolute  scepticism  — 
not  that  partial  scepticism  which  is  directed  merely  against  the 
common  prejudices  of  men  and  never  sees  the  foundation  - 
but  the  radical  scepticism  which  aims  not  at  the  individual 
prejudices,  but  against  the  fundamental  prejudice,  with  which 
all  others  must  stand  or  fall.  For  beyond  the  artificial  and 
inculcated  prejudices  of  man,  there  exist  others  of  deeper  ori- 
gin which  have  been  placed  in  him  not  by  art  or  education, 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          539 

but  by  nature  itself.  These  are  regarded  by  all  except  the 
philosopher,  as  the  principles  of  knowledge,  and  by  the  mere 
thinker  of  self,  as  the  test  of  all  truth. 

The  one  fundamental  prejudice,  to  which  all  others  may  be  , 
reduced,  is  this:  that  there  exist  things  outside  of  us.   This  isv 
an  opinion,  which,  although  it  rests  neither  on  proofs  nor  on 
conclusions  (for  there  is  not  a  single  valid  proof  of  it),  yet  as  it 
cannot  be  uprooted  by   any  opposite  proof  (naturam  furca  ex- 
pellas,  tamen  usque  redibit),  lays  claim  to  immediate  certainty. 
But  since  it  refers  to  something  wholly  distinct  from  us,  and, 
in  fact,  opposed  to  us,  of  which  there  is  no  evidence  how  it  came 
into  immediate  consciousness,  it  must  be  regarded  as  nothing 
more  than  a  prejudice  —  a  natural  and  original  one,  to  be  sure,  ' 
but  nevertheless  a  prejudice. 

The  contradiction  that  a  conclusion  which  in  its  nature  can- 
not be  immediately  certain,  is,  nevertheless,  blindly  and  without! 
grounds,  accepted  as  such,  cannot  be  solved  by  transcendental! 
philosophy,  except  on  the  assumption  that  this  conclusion  is 
implicitly,  and  without  our  being  aware  of  it,  not  founded  upon, , 
but  identical,  and  one  and  the  same  with  an  affirmation  which ' 
is  immediately  certain.     To  demonstrate  this  identity  will  in^ 
reality  be  the  task  of  transcendental  philosophy. 

2.  Now,  even  for  the  ordinary  use  of  reason,  there  exists 
nothing  immediately  certain  except  the  affirmation  /  am,  which, 
since  it  loses  all  significance  outside  of  immediate  conscious- 
ness, is  the  most  individual  of  all  truths,  and  the  absolute  pre- 
judice, which  must  be  assumed,  if  anything  else  is  to  be  made 
certain.  The  affirmation  There  are  things  outside  of  us,  will 
therefore  be  certain  for  the  transcendental  philosopher,  solely 
because  of  its  identity  with  the  affirmation  /  am ;  and  its  cer- 
tainty will  also  only  be  equal  to  the  certainty  of  the  affirmation 
from  which  it  derives  its  own. 

According  to  this  view  transcendental  knowledge  would  be 
distinguished  from  common  knowledge  in  two  particulars. 
,  First. — That  for  it  the  certainty  of  the  existence  of  external 
things  is  a  mere  prejudice,  which  it  transcends,  in  order  to  inves- 
tigate the  grounds  of  it.    (It  can  never  be  the  task  for  transcen- 


540  SCHELLING 

dental  philosophy  to  prove  the  existence  of  things  in  themselves, 
but  only  to  show  that  it  is  a  natural  and  necessary  prejudice 
to  assume  external  objects  as  real.) 

Second.  — That  it  separates  the  two  affirmations,  /  am  and 
There  are  things  outside  of  me,  which  run  together  in  the  or- 
dinary consciousness,  and  places  the  one  before  the  other,  in 
order  to  prove  their  identity  and  that  immediate  connection 
which  in  the  other  is  only  felt.  By  this  act  of  separation,  when 
it  is  completed,  one  transports  one's  self  in  the  transcendental 
act  of  contemplation,  which  is  by  no  means  a  natural,  but  an 
artificial  one. 

3.  If  the  subjective  alone  has  reality  for  the  transcendental 
philosopher  he  will  also  make  only  the  subjective  directly  his 
object.  The  objective  will  be  for  him  only  indirectly  an  object, 
and,  whereas,  in  ordinary  knowledge,  knowledge  itself — the  act 
of  knowing  —  disappears  in  the  object,  in  transcendental  know- 
ledge, on  the  contrary,  the  object  as  such  disappears  in  the  act 
of  knowing.  Transcendental  knowledge  is  therefore  a  know- 
ledge of  knowing,  in  so  far  as  it  is  purely  subjective. 

Thus,  for  example,  in  intuition  it  is  the  objective  only  that 
reaches  the  ordinary  consciousness ;  the  act  of  intuition  is  itself 
lost  in  the  object;  whereas  on  the  contrary  the  transcendental 
mode  of  observation  gets  only  a  glimpse  of  the  object  of  intui- 
tion by  the  act  of  intuition.  Thus  the  ordinary  thinking  is  a 
mechanism,  in  which  ideas  prevail,  without,  however,  being  dis- 
tinguished as  ideas;  whereas  the  transcendental  act  of  thought 
interrupts  this  mechanism,  and  in  becoming  conscious  of  the 
idea  as  an  act,  rises  to  the  idea  of  the  idea.  In  ordinary  action, 
the  acting  is  itself  forgotten  in  the  object  of  the  action ;  philo- 
sophizing is  also  an  action,  but  not  an  action  only.  It  is  likewise 
a  continued  self-intuition  in  this  action. 

The  nature  of  the  transcendental  mode  of  thought  must  con- 
sist, therefore,  in  general  in  this :  that,  in  it,  that  which  in  jalt 
other  thinking,  knowing,  or  acting  escapes  the  consciousness^' 
and  is  absolutely  non-objective,  is  brought  into  consciousness 
and  becomes  objective.  In  brief,  it  consists  in  a  continuous^  act 
of  becoming  an  object  to  itself  on  the  part  of  the  subjective. 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          541 

The  transcendental  art  will  therefore  consist  in  the  ability  to 
maintain  one's  self  constantly  in  this  duplicity  of  acting  and 
thinking. 

SECTION  III.    PRELIMINARY  DIVISION  OF  TRANSCENDENTAL 

PHILOSOPHY 

This  division  is  preliminary,  because  the  principles  of  the 
division  can  be  derived  only  from  the  science  itself. 

We  return  to  the  idea  of  science. 

Transcendental  philosophy  has  to  explain  how  knowledge  is 
possible  at  all,  assuming  that  the  subjective  in  it  is  accepted  as 
the  ruling  or  first  element. 

It  is  therefore,  not  a  single  part,  nor  a  special  object  of  know- 
ledge, but  knowledge  itself,  and  knowledge  in  general,  that  it 
takes  for  its  object. 

Now  all  knowledge  can  be  reduced  to  certain  original  con- 
jvictions  or  original  prejudices.  These  different  convictions  tran- 
scendental philosophy  must  trace  to  one  original  conviction. 
This  ultimate  conviction  from  which  all  others  are  derived,  is 
expressed  in  the  first  principle  of  this  philosophy,  and  the  task 
of  finding  such  is  none  other  than  to  find  the  absolutely  certain 
by  which  all  other  certainty  is  attained. 

The  division  of  transcendental  philosophy  is  determined  through 
those  original  convictions,  whose  validity  it  affirms.  These  con- 
victions must,  in  the  first  place,  be  sought  in  the  common  un- 
derstanding. If,  therefore,  we  go  back  to  the  standpoint  of 
the  ordinary  view,  we  find  the  following  convictions  deeply  en- 
graven in  the  human  understanding :  — 

A.  That  not  only  does  there  exist  a  world  of  things  indepen- 
dent of  us,  but  also  that  our  representations  agree  with  them  in 
such  a  manner  that  there  is  nothing  else  in  the  things  beyond 
what  we  represent  by  them.  The  necessity  in  our  objective  re- 
presentations is  explained  by  the  belief  that  the  things  are  un- 
alterably determined,  and  that  by  this  determination  of  things 
our  representations  appear  to  be  mediately  determined.  By 
this  first  and  most  original  conviction,  the  first  problem  of  philo- 
sophy is  determined,  viz.:  to  explain  how  representations  can 


542  SCHELLING 

absolutely  agree  with  objects  which  exist  entirely  independent 
of  them.  Since  it  is  upon  the  assumption  that  things  are  exactly 
as  we  represent  them,  and  that  we  therefore  certainly  know 
things  as  they  are  in  themselves,  that  the  possibility  of  all  ex- 
perience rests  (for  what  would  experience  be,  and  where  would 
physics,  for  example,  stray  to,  without  that  presupposition  of  the 
absolute  identity  of  being  and  seeming?),  the  solution  of  this 
problem  is  identical  with  theoretical  philosophy,  which  has  to 
investigate  the  possibility  of  experience. 

B.  The  second  equally  original  conviction  is,  that  represen- 
tations  which  originate  in  us  freely  and  without  necessity  can 
pass  over  from  the  world  of  thought  into  the  real  world,  and 
attain  objective  reality. 

This  conviction  is  opposed  to  the  first.  According  to  the  first, 
it  is  assumed  that  objects  are  unalterably  determined,  and  our 
representations  by  them;  according  to  the  other,  that  objects 
are  changeable,  and  that,  too,  by  the  causality  of  representa- 
tions in  us.  According  to  the  first  conviction,  a  transition  takes 
place  within  us  from  the  real  world  into  the  world  of  representa- 
tions, or  a  determining  of  the  representations  by  the  objective; 
according  to  the  second,  a  transition  takes  place  from  the  world 
of  representations  into  the  world  of  reality,  or  a  determining  of 
the  objective  by  a  (freely  conceived)  representation  in  us. 

By  this  second  conviction,  a  second  problem  is  determined,  viz. 
how,  by  something  merely  thought,  an  objective  is  changeable, 
so  as  entirely  to  correspond  with  that  something  thought. 

Since  the  possibility  of  all  free  action  rests  upon  that  assump- 
tion, the  solution  of  this  problem  is  practical  philosophy. 

C.  But  with  these  two  problems  we  find  ourselves  involved  in 
a  contradiction.  According  to  B,  the  supremacy  of  thought  (the 
ideal)  over  the  world  of  sense  is  demanded.  But  how  is  such 
supremacy  conceivable,  if  (according  to  A)  the  idea  in  its  origin 
is  already  only  the  slave  of  the  objective  ?  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  real  world  is  something  wholly  independent  of  us,  and  is 
something  with  which  our  ideas  must  conform  as  their  pattern 
(by  A),  then  it  becomes  inconceivable  how,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  real  world  can  conform  to  the  ideas  in  us  (by  B).  In  brief, 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          543 

in  the  theoretical  certainty  we  lose  the  practical;  in  the  prac- 
tical we  lose  the  theoretical.  It  is  impossible  that  at  the  same 
time  there  should  be  truth  in  our  knowledge  and  reality  in  our 
volition. 

This  contradiction  must  be  solved,  if  there  is  to  be  a  philoso- 
phy at  all.    The  solution  of  this  problem,  or  the  answering  of 
the  question :  How  can  ideas  be  conceived  as  conforming  to  ob- 
jects, and  at  the  same  time  objects  as  conforming  to  ideas  ?  - 
is  not  the  first,  but  is  the  chief  task  of  transcendental  philosophy. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  problem  cannot  be  solved  either  in 
theoretical  or  practical  philosophy,  but  in  a  higher  one,  which 
is  the  connecting  link  of  both,  and  is  neither  theoretical  nor 
practical,  but  both  at  the  same  time. 

How  at  the  same  time  the  objective  world  conforms  to  repre- 
sentations in  us,  and  representations  in  us  conform  to  the  objec- 
tive world,  cannot  be  conceived,  unless  there  exists  a  preestablished 
harmony  between  the  two  worlds  of  the  ideal  and  the  real.  But 
this  preestablished  harmony  is  itself  not  conceivable  unless  the 
activity  by  which  the  objective  world  is  produced,  is  originally 
identical  with  that  which  displays  itself  in  volition,  and  vice  versa. 

Now  it  is  certainly  a  productive  activity  which  manifests  itself 
in  volition.  All  free  action  is  productive,  but  productive  only 
with  consciousness.  If,  then,  since  the  two  activities  are  only 
one  in  principle,  we  suppose  that  the  same  activity  which  is 
productive  with  consciousness  in  free  action,  is  productive  with- 
out consciousness  in  the  production  of  the  world,  this  prees- 
tablished harmony  is  a  reality,  and  the  contradiction  is  solved. 
If  we  suppose  that  all  this  is  actually  the  case,  then  that  origi-* 
nal  identity  of  the  activity  which  is  engaged  in  the  produc:- 
tion  of  the  world,  with  that  which  exhibits  itself  in  volition,* 
must  manifest  itself  in  the  productions  of  the  former,  and  these 
must  necessarily  appear  as  the  productions  of  an  activity  at 
once  conscious  and  unconscious. 

Nature,  as  a  whole,  no  less  than  in  its  different  productions, 
will  of  necessity  appear  as  a  work  produced  with  consciousness 
and  yet  at  the  same  time  as  the  production  of  the  blindest  mech- 
anism. It  is  the  result  of  purpose  without  being  explainable 


544  SCHELLING 

as  such.  The  philosophy  of  the  aims  of  Nature,  or  teleology,  is 
therefore  the  required  point  of  union  of  theoretical  and  practical 
philosophy. 

D.  Heretofore,  we  have  posited  only  in  general  terms  the 
identity  of  the  unconscious  activity  which  has  produced  Nature, 
and  the  conscious  activity  which  manifests  itself  in  volition, 
without  having  decided  where  the  principle  of  this  activity  lies, 
whether  in  Nature  or  in  us. 

But  now  the  system  of  knowledge  can  be  regarded  as  com- 
plete only  when  it  reverts  to  its  principle.  Transcendental  philo- 
sophy would  therefore  be  completed  only  when  it  also  could 
demonstrate  that  identity  —the  highest  solution  of  its  entire 
problem  —  in  its  principle  (the  Ego). 

It  is  therefore  postulated,  that  activity,  at  once  conscious  and 
unconscious,  can  be  shown  in  the  subjective,  that  is  in  conscious- 
ness itself. 

Such  an  activity  can  be  no  other  than  the  tzsthetic,  and  every 
work  of  art  can  only  be  conceived  as  the  product  of- such.  The 
ideal  work  of  art  and  the  real  world  of  objects  are  therefore 
products  of  one  and  the  same  activity.  The  meeting  of  the  two 
(of  the  conscious  and  the  unconscious)  gives  without  conscious- 
ness the  real,  with  consciousness  the  aesthetic  world. 

The  objective  world  is  only  the  original  still  unconscious 
poetry  of  the  soul.  The  universal  organum  of  philosophy — the 
keystone  of  its  entire  arch  —  is  the  philosophy  of  art. 

SECTION  IV.   ORGAN  OF  TRANSCENDENTAL  PHILOSOPHY 

i.  The  only  immediate  object  of  transcendental  consideration 
is  the  subjective  (§  2).  The  sole  organ  of  this  method  of  philoso- 
phizing is  therefore  the  inner  sense,  and  its  object  is  of  such  a 
nature  that,  unlike  that  of  mathematics,  it  can  never  become  the 
object  of  external  intuition.  The  object  of  mathematics,  to  be 
sure,  exists  as  little  outside  of  knowledge,  as  that  of  philosophy. 
The  entire  existence  of  mathematics  depends  upon  the  intuition. 
It  exists,  therefore,  only  in  the  intuition ;  but  this  intuition  itself 
is  an  external  one.  In  addition  to  this  the  mathematician  has 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM  545 

never  to  do  immediately  with  the  intuition  —  the  construction 
itself  —  but  only  with  the  thing  constructed,  which  can  certainly 
be  presented  outwardly.  The  philosopher,  however,  regards  only 
the  act  of  construction  itself,  which  is  purely  an  internal  one. 

2.  Moreover,  the  objects  of  the  transcendental  philosopher 
have  no  existence,  except  in  so  far  as  they  are  freely  produced. 
One  cannot  be  compelled  to  this  production  any  more  than  one 
can  be  compelled  by  the  external  drawing  of  a  mathematical, 
figure  to  regard  it  internally.   Just  as  the  existence  of  a  mathe-- 
matical  figure  depends  upon  external  sense,  so  the  entire  reality- 
of  a  philosophical  concept  depends  upon  the  inner  sense.    The. 
whole  object  of  this  philosophy  is  no  other  than  the  action  of- 
the  intelligence  according  to  fixed  laws.  This  action  can  be  con- . 
ceived  only  through  a  peculiar,  direct,  inner  intuition,  and  this  - 
again  is  possible  only  by  production.    But  this  is  not  enough. 
In  philosophizing,  one  is  not  only  the  object,  but  is  always  at  the 
same  time  the  subject  of  the  reflection.   Two  conditions  are  con- 
sequently demanded  for 'the  understanding  of  philosophy.  First, 
the  philosopher  must  be  engaged  in  a  continued  inner  activity,  in 
a  continuous  production  of  those  original  actions  of  intelligence ; 
second,  he  must  be  engaged  in  continuous  reflection  upon  this 
productive  action ;  in  a  word,  he  must  at  the  same  time  always 
be  the  contemplated  (producing)  and  the  contemplating. 

3.  By  this  continuous  duplicity  of  production  and  of  intuition, 
that  must  become  an  object  which  is  otherwise  reflected  by  no- 
thing.  It  cannot  be  proved  here,  but  will  be  proved  later,  that 
this  becoming-reflected  on  the  part  of  the  absolutely  uncon- 
scious and  non-objective,  is  possible  only  by  an  aesthetic  act  of 
the  imagination.    Nevertheless,  it  is  certain  from  what  has  al- 
ready been  proved  that  all  philosophy  is  productive.  Philosophy, 
therefore,  as  well  as  art,  rests  upon  the  productive  faculty,  and 
the  difference  between  the  two  consists  merely  in  the  different 
direction  of  the  productive  power.    For  whereas  production  in 
art  is  directed  outward,  /in  order  to  reflect  the  unconscious  by 
products;  philosophical' production  is  directed  immediately  in- 
ward, in  order  to  reflect  it  in  intellectual  intuition.   The  special 
sense  by  which  this  kind  of  philosophy  must  be  grasped  is  there- 


546  SCHELLING 

fore  the  aesthetic  sense,  and  hence  it  is  that  the  philosophy  of 
art  is  the  true  organum  of  philosophy  (§3). 

From  the  vulgar  reality  there  exist  only  two  outlets:  poetry, 
which  transports  us  into  the  ideal  world,  and  philosophy,  which 
causes  the  real  world  wholly  to  vanish  before  us.  It  is  not  clear 
why  the  sense  for  philosophy  should  be  more  widely  diffused 
than  that  for  poetry,  especially  among  the  classes  of  men  who 
have  not  wholly  lost  the  aesthetic  organ  either  by  memory  work 
(nothing  destroys  more  directly  the  productive  power)  or  by 
dead  speculation,  which  is  ruinous  to  all  imaginative  power. 

4.  It  is  unnecessary  to  occupy  more  time  with  the  common- 
places about  the  sense  of  truth,  or  about  entire  disregard  for 
results,  although  it  might  be  asked,  what  other  conviction  can 
be  sacred  to  one  who  questions  the  most  certain  of  all  —  that 
there  are  things  outside  of  us.  We  may  rather  take  a  glance  at 
the  so-called  claims  of  the  common  understanding. 

The  common  understanding  in  matters  of  philosophy  has  no 
claims  whatsoever,  except  those  which  all  objects  of  investiga- 
tions have,  viz.,  to  be  perfectly  explained. 

It  is  not,  therefore,  our  business  to  prove  that  what  is  held 
for  true,  is  true,  but  only  to  disclose  the  unavoidableness  of  its 
illusions.  This  implies  that  the  objective  world  belongs  only  to 
the  necessary  limitations  which  render  self-consciousness  (the 
I  am)  possible;  it  is  enough  for  the  common  understanding,  if 
from  this  view  the  necessity  of  its  own  view  is  derived. 

For  this  purpose  it  is  necessary,  not  only  that  the  inner  machi- 
nery of  our  mental  activity  be  disclosed,  and  the  mechanism 
of  necessary  ideas  revealed,  but  also  that  it  should  be  shown 
by  what  peculiarity  of  our  nature  it  is  necessary  that  what  has 
reality  only  in  our  intuition,  is  reflected  to  us  as  something 
existing  outside  of  us. 

As  natural  science  produces  idealism  out  of  realism,  when 
it  intellectualizes  t^e  laws  of  nature  into  laws  of  intelligence, 
or  superinduces  tljp  formal  upon  the  material  (§  i),  so  tran- 
scendental philosophy  produces  realism  out  of  idealism  when 
it  materializes  the  laws  of  intelligence  into  laws  of  nature,  or 
introduces  the  material  into  the  formal. 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          547 

FIRST   DIVISION.    THE   PRINCIPLE   OF    TRAN- 
SCENDENTAL IDEALISM 

SECTION  I.    THE   NECESSITY  AND   NATURE  OF  A  HIGHEST 
PRINCIPLE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

1.  Meanwhile  we  will  assume  as  hypothesis,  that  there  is  in 
general,  reality  in  our  knowledge.    We  will  then  ask :   What  are 
the  conditions  of  this  reality  ?   Whether  reality  actually  belongs 
to  our  knowledge  will  depend  upon  whether  these  conditions, 
which  are  so  far  merely  deducible  from  our  hypothesis,  can 
hereafter  be  shown  to  be  demonstrable. 

If  all  knowledge  is  based  upon  the  agreement  of  an  objective 
and  subjective  (Introd.  §  i),  then  our  entire  knowledge  consists 
of  principles  which  are  not  immediately  true,  but  which  derive 
their  reality  from  something  else. 

The  mere  juxtaposition  of  a  subjective  with  a  subjective  con- 
stitutes no  proper  knowledge.  And  conversely,  true  knowledge 
presupposes  a  meeting  of  opposites,  whose  conjunction  can  at 
best  be  only  mediated. 

There  must  be,  therefore,  in  our  knowledge,  some  general  - 
mediating  property  which  is  the  only  ground  of  knowledge. 

2.  It  is  assumed  as  an  hypothesis  that  there  is  a  system  in  our. 
knowledge,  that  is  to  say,  there  is  a  whole,  which  supports  itself,  ^ 
and  is  in  harmony  with  itself.   The  sceptic  denies  this  presuppo- 
sition just  as  he  does  the  first ;  and  like  the  former  hypothesis, 
it  can  be  proven  only  by  the  act  itself.   What  then  would  be  the 
consequence  if  our  knowledge,  yes,  even  if  our  entire  nature, , 
were  in  itself  contradictory  ?   Therefore,  let  us  merely  assume  . 
that  our  knowledge  is  one  original  whole,  and  that  the  system 
of  philosophy  gives  the  outline  scheme  of  this  whole,  then  the 
question  again  is,  first  of  all,  to  enquire  concerning  the  condi- 
tions of  this  whole. 

Since  every  valid  system  (as  e.  g.  that  of  the  universe)  must 
have  the  basis  of  its  existence  in  itself,  so  likewise,  if  there  exists 
a  system  of  knowledge,  the  principle  of  it  must  lie  within  the 
knowledge  itself. 


548  SCHELLING 

3.  There  can  be  only  one  such  principle,  inasmuch  as  all 
truth  is  absolutely  self -identical.    There  may  exist  degrees  of 
probability,  but  truth  admits  of  no  degrees.    What  is  true  is 

«  equally  true.  But  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  truth  of  all 
affirmations  of  knowledge  to  be  absolutely  alike,  if  they  de- 
rived their  truths  from  different  principles  (parts  of  mediation). 
There  must  consequently  be  only  one  (mediating)  principle  in 
all  kno'wledge. 

4.  This  principle  is  the  mediate  or  indirect  principle  of  every 
science,  but  the  immediate  and  direct  principle  only  of  the 
science  of  all  knowledge,  or  of  transcendental  philosophy. 

By  the  task  of  establishing  a  science  of  all  knowledge,  that  is, 
one  which  makes  the  subjective  first  and  highest,  one  is  immedi- 
ately driven  to  a  highest  principle  of  all  knowledge. 

All  objections  to  such  an  absolute  highest  principle  of  know- 
ledge are  precluded  by  the  very  idea  of  transcendental  phi- 
losophy. They  all  arise  merely  from  overlooking  the  limitation 
of  the  first  problem  of  this  science,  which  at  the  very  outset 
withdraws  from  every  objective  and  keeps  in  view  solely  the 
subjective. 

We  are  not  at  all  concerned  with  an  absolute  principle  of 
being,  for  all  those  objections  hold  against  it ;  but  are  concerned 
with  an  absolute  principle  of  knowledge. 

But  now  it  is  evident  that  if  there  were  no  absolute  boundary 
of  knowledge  —  no  something  which  lays  hold  of  and  binds 
us  absolutely  in  knowledge  without  our  being  conscious  of  it, 
and  which  even  in  the  very  act  of  knowing  does  not  become 
for  us  an  object,  for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  the  principle  of 
all  knowledge  —  then  all  knowledge,  even  a  knowledge  of  any 
particulars,  would  be  impossible. 

The  transcendental  philosopher  does  not  ask :  What  last  foun- 
dation of  our  knowledge  may  lie  outside  of  it  ?  but,  What  is  the 
last  in  our  knowledge  itself,  beyond  which  we  cannot  proceed  ? 
He  seeks  the  principle  of  knowledge  within  knowledge.  It  is 
therefore  something  that  can  be  known. 

The  assertion :  There  exists  a  highest  principle  of  knowledge 
is  not  (like  the  assertion :  There  exists  an  absolute  principle  of 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM  549 

being)  a  positive  but  a  negative  and  restricting  proposition, 
meaning  only  that  there  is  some  kind  of  ultimate  from  which 
all  knowledge  takes  its  beginning,  and  beyond  which  there  is  no 
knowledge. 

Since  the  transcendental  philosopher  (Introd.  §  i)  makes 
throughout  only  the  subjective  his  object,  he  affirms  merely  that 
subjectively,  that  is  to  say,  for  us,  there  exists  some  kind  of  a 
first  knowledge.  Whether  apart  from  us,  beyond  this  first  know- 
ledge, there  really  is  a  something,  does  not  at  first  concern  him 
at  all.  Concerning  this  question  the  sequel  must  decide. 

The  first  knowledge  is  for  us  undoubtedly  the  knowledge  of 
ourselves,  or  self-consciousness.  When  the  idealist  accepts  this 
knowledge  as  the  principle  of  philosophy,  it  is  in  conformity 
with  the  limited  object  of  his  entire  task,  which  has  no  other 
object  beyond  the  subjective  of  knowledge.  That  self-conscious- 
ness is  the  fixed  point  to  which  for  us  everything  is  bound,  needs 
no  proof.  But  that  this  self-consciousness  might  be  indeed  only 
the  modification  of  a  higher  being  —  (probably  of  a  higher  con- 
sciousness, and  this  of  a  still  higher,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum), 

—  in   a  word,  that  even  self -consciousness  can  be  in  general 
something  at  all  capable  of  being  explained  through  something 
of  which  we  can  know  nothing,  just  because  the  entire  synthesis 
of  our  knowledge  is  first  constructed  through  self-consciousness 

—  is  of  no  concern  to  us  as  transcendental  philosophers.    The 
reason  is  that  self-consciousness  is  not  a  kind  of  being,  but  a 
kind  of  knowledge,  and  indeed,  the  highest  and  final,  that  for  us 
exists  at  all. 

To  proceed  farther,  it  may  even  be  proved,  and  in  part  has 
already  been  proved  (Introd.  §  i),  that  even  if  the  objective  is 
voluntarily  accepted  as  the  first,  we  nevertheless  can  never  go 
beyond  self-consciousness.  We  are  then  either  driven  back  in 
our  explanation  into  an  infinite  series  from  the  grounded  to  the 
ground,  or  we  must  voluntarily  break  the  series  by  setting  up 
an  absolute  as  first,  which  is  in  and  of  itself,  cause  and  effect, 
subject  and  object ;  and  since  this  is  possible  originally  only  by 
means  of  self-consciousness  we  must  further  break  the  continuity 
by  setting  up  self -consciousness  as  first.  This  is  done  by  natural 


550  SCHELLING 

science,  for  which  being  is  primal  even  as  little  as  for  transcenden- 
tal philosophy  (cf.  "Outline  of  a  System  of  Philosophy  of  Nature)." 
It  places  the  only  reality  in  an  absolute,  which  is  and  is  of  it- 
self cause  and  effect,  that  is,  in  the  absolute  identity  of  the  sub- 
jective and  objective,  which  we  term  nature,  and  which  again  in 
its  highest  potency  is  nothing  else  but  self-consciousness. 

Dogmatism,  for  which  being  is  the  original,  can  indeed  ex- 
plain in  no  other  way  except  by  means  of  an  infinite  regress; 
for  the  succession  of  causes  and  effects  along  which  its  explana- 
tion runs  could  only  be  concluded  by  something  which  is  at 
one  and  the  same  time  in  itself  cause  and  effect.  But  just  thereby 
it  would  be  transformed  into  natural  science,  which  in  turn  in 
its  fulness  reverts  to  the  principle  of  transcendental  idealism. 
(Consistent  dogmatism  exists  only  in  Spinozism ;  but  Spinozism 
as  a  real  system  can  again  survive  only  as  natural  science,  the 
last  result  of  which  becomes  in  turn  the  principle  of  transcend- 
ental philosophy.) 

From  the  foregoing  it  is  evident  that  self-consciousness  em- 
braces the  entire  horizon  of  our  knowledge  broadened  even  to 
the  infinite,  and  remains  in  every  direction  the  highest.  Never- 
theless there  is  for  the  present  purpose  no  need  of  this  far- 
reaching  consideration,  but  only  of  the  reflection  upon  the  mean- 
ing of  our  first  problem.  The  following  argument  will  doubtless 
make  it  intelligible  and  self-evident  to  every  one. 

It  is  at  present  my  purpose  only  to  introduce  a  system  into 
my  knowledge,  and  to  seek  within  knowledge  itself  that  by 
means  of  which  all  individual  knowledge  is  determined.  But 
that  whereby  everything  in  my  knowledge  is  determined  is  with- 
out doubt  the  knowledge  of  myself.  Inasmuch  as  I  desire  onlyj 
to  ground  my  knowledge  in  itself  I  seek  no  further  concerning 
the  last  ground  of  that  first  knowledge  (i.  e.  of  self-conscious- 
ness), which  if  any  such  exists  must  necessarily  be  outside  of 
knowledge.  Self -consciousness  is  the  luminous  point  in  the  en- 
tire system  of  knowledge;  but  it  illumines  only  forwards,  not 
backwards.  Granted  even  that  this  self -consciousness  is  only 
a  modification  of  a  being  independent  of  it,  which,  to  be  sure, 
no  philosophy  can  indeed  make-  conceivable,  it  is  still  for  me  at 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          551 

present  no  kind  of  being,  but  a  kind  of  knowledge,  and  in  this 
quality  only  do  I  here  regard  it.  Through  the  limitation  of  my 
task,  which  carries  me  back  to  the  infinite  and  includes  me  in 
the  circle  of  knowledge,  self-consciousness  becomes  for  me  some-y 
thing  independent,  and  the  absolute  principle,  not  of  all  being, 
but  of  all  knowledge,  since  all  knowledge,  and  not  merely  my 
own  must  proceed  from  it.  That  knowledge  in  general,  and  that 
this  first  knowledge  in  particular,  is  dependent  upon  an  existence 
which  is  independent  of  it,  no  dogmatist  has  yet  proved.  Up  to 
the  present  it  is  just  as  possible  that  all  existence  is  only  the 
modification  of  one  knowledge,  as  that  all  knowledge  is  only 
the  modification  of  one  existence.  Nevertheless,  abstracted  and 
viewed  wholly  apart  from  the  question,  whether  the  necessary 
is  at  all  identical  with  existence  and  knowledge  merely  the  ac- 
cident of  existence,  knowledge  for  our  science  becomes  independ- 
ent by  the  very  fact  that  we  consider  it  only  in  so  far  as  it  is 
merely  subjective. 

Whether  it  is  absolutely  independent  may  remain  undecided, 
until  such  time  as  science  itself  decides,  whether  anything  can 
be  thought  that  is  not  derived  from  this  knowledge  itself. 

Against  the  task  itself,  or  rather  against  the  defining  of  the 
task,  the  dogmatist  can  still  raise  no  objection,  for  the  reason 
that  I  may  quite  arbitrarily  limit  my  task;  while  I  may  not 
arbitrarily  extend  my  task  to  something,  which,  as  can  be  seen 
in  advance,  can  never  fall  within  the  sphere  of  my  knowledge, 
as,  for  instance,  a  last  ground  of  knowledge  outside  of  know- 
ledge. The  only  possible  objection  against  our  definition  is  this, 
that  the  task  thus  appointed  may  not  be  the  task  of  philosophy, 
its  solution  not  philosophy. 

However,  what  philosophy  may  be  is  the  very  question  as  yet 
unsolved.  The  answering  can  be  the  outcome  only  of  philosophy 
itself.  That  the  solution  of  this  task  is  philosophy  can  be  proved 
only  by  the  doing  of  it,  that  is,  by  solving  together  with  this  task  all 
those  problems  which  one  has  ever  sought  to  solve  in  philosophy. 

We  affirm,  nevertheless,  with  the  same  right  with  which  the 
dogmatist  affirms  the  opposite,  that  what  one  has  heretofore 
understood  by  philosophy  is  possible  only  as  a  science  of  know- 


552  SCHELLING 

ledge,  and  has  not  being,  but  knowledge  for  its  object ;  that  its 
principle  can  therefore  not  be  a  principle  of  being,  but  only  a 
principle  of  knowledge.  Whether  we  shall  succeed  more  surely 
in  arriving  at  being  from  knowledge,  in  deriving  everything 
objective  from  the  knowledge  which  at  first  we  only  assumed  to 
be  independent  for  the  benefit  of  our  science,  and  in  raising  it 
thereby  to  absolute  independence,  —  whether  we  shall  succeed 
more  surely  in  this  than  the  dogmatist  in  his  opposite  attempt  to 
create  knowledge  from  being  which  he  assumes  to  be  independ- 
ent, the  sequel  must  decide. 

5.  By  the  first  undertaking  of  our  science,  which  is  to  seek 
whether  a  transition  can  be  found  from  knowledge  as  such  (in 
so  far  as  it  is  act),  to  the  objective  in  it  (which  is  no  act,  but  a 
being  or  an  existence),  knowledge  is  already  posited  as  indepen- 
dent. Nothing  can  be  urged  against  this  undertaking  itself  be- 
fore we  have  tried  it. 

It  is  therefore  likewise  posited  by  this  task,  that  knowledge 
has  an  absolute  principle  in  itself ;  and  that  this  principle  lying 
within  knowledge  itself  shall  be  also  the  principle  of  transcendental 
philosophy  as  a  science. 

But  further,  every  science  is  a  totality  of  principles  with  a 
determined  form.  If  therefore  the  entire  system  of  science  shall 
be  established  by  means  of  such  a  principle,  then  it  must  deter- 
mine not  only  the  content,  but  also  the  form  of  this  science. 

It  is  universally  assumed  that  there  belongs  to  philosophy  a 
characteristic  form,  which  is  called  systematic.  To  assume 
this  form  without  deriving  it,  may  be  permitted  in  the  other 
sciences  which  already  presuppose  the  science  of  science,  but 
not  in  this  science,  which  has  as  its  very  object  the  possibility 
of  such  a  form. 

What  is  scientific  form,  really,  and  what  is  its  object  ?  This 
question  must  be  answered  by  the  science  of  knowledge,  for  all 
the  other  sciences.  Since,  however,  this  science  of  knowledge  is 
in  itself  a  science,  there  would  be  needed  a  science  of  knowledge 
of  the  science  of  knowledge.  But  this  again  would  be  a  science, 
and  so  on  ad  infinitum.  The  question  arises,  how  this  circle, 
since  it  is  apparently  indissoluble,  can  be  explained. 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          553 

This  circle,  which  is  unavoidable  for  science,  cannot  be  ex- 
plained, unless  it  has  originally  its  origin  in  knowledge  itself 
I  (the  object  of  science),  in  such  a  way  that  the  original  content 
:of  knowledge  presupposes  the  original  form,  and  conversely 
that  the  original  form  of  knowledge  presupposes  the  original  con- 
tent of  it,  and  that  both  are  mutually  conditioned.  For  this  pur- 
pose, therefore,  it  would  be  necessary  to  find  in  intelligence  itself 
some  point  where  both  form  and  content  originate  by  one  and 
the  same  indivisible  act  of  original  knowledge.  The  task  of  find- 
ing this  point  would  have  to  be  identical  with  that  of  finding  the 
principle  of  all  knowledge. 

The  principle  of  philosophy  must  therefore  be  of  such  a 
nature  that  in  it  the  content  is  conditioned  by  the  form,  and 
again,  the  form  conditioned  by  the  content ;  and  that  not  one 
presupposes  the  other  but  that  they  reciprocally  presuppose  one 
another.  Against  this  first  principle  of  philosophy,  among  other 
things  the  following  argument  has  been  urged.  The  principle 
of  philosophy  must  permit  of  being  expressed  in  a  fundamental 
proposition,  and  this  fundamental  proposition  shall  without 
doubt  not  only  be  formal  but  also  material.  But  now  every 
proposition,  whatever  its  content,  is  subject  to  the  laws  of  logic. 
Every  fundamental  proposition,  therefore,  of  a  material  nature, 
through  the  mere  fact  that  it  is  such,  presupposes  higher  princi- 
ples, which  are  those  of  logic.  Now  there  is  nothing  lacking  to 
this  argument,  except  that  one  ought  to  reverse  it.  Let  any  one 
think  of  a  formal  proposition,  e.  g.  A  =  A,  as  the  highest. 
What  is  logical  in  this  proposition  is  merely  the  form  of  the 
identity  between  A  and  A ;  but  whence  does  the  A  itself  come  ? 
If  A  is,  it  is  like  itself;  but  whence  is  it?  Undoubtedly  this 
question  cannot  be  answered  by  the  proposition  itself,  but  only 
by  means  of  a  higher  one.  The  analysis  A  =  A  presupposes 
the  synthesis  A.  It  is  therefore  evident  that  no  formal  principle 
can  be  thought  without  a  material  one;  nor  a  material  prin- 
ciple without  presupposing  a  formal  one. 

From  this  circle,  that  every  form  presupposes  a  content  and 
every  content  a  form,  one  cannot  extricate  one's  self,  unless  some 
proposition  is  found  in  which  there  is  reciprocally  conditioned 


554  SCHELLING 

and  made  possible  the  form  by  means  of  the  content  and  the 
content  by  means  of  the  form. 

The  first  false  presupposition  in  this  argument  therefore  is, 
that  the  fundamental  propositions  of  logic  are  unconditioned, 
that  is  to  say,  cannot  be  derived  from  any  higher  propositions. 
Now  the  logical  fundamental  propositions  originate  for  us  only 
in  that  we  make  as  content  for  these  what  in  other  propositions 
is  only  the  form.  Logic  can  therefore  only  originate  through 
abstraction  of  determined  propositions.  If  it  arises  in  scientific 
form,  it  can  only  originate  through  abstraction  of  the  supreme 
fundamental  propositions  of  knowledge,  and  since  these  again 
as  fundamental  principles  presuppose  already  the  logical  form 
they  must  be  of  such  a  character  that  in  them  both  form  and 
matter  are  reciprocally  conditioned  and  produced. 

But  it  must  be  apparent  that  this  abstraction  cannot  be  made 
before  these  highest  fundamental  principles  of  knowledge  are 
established;  before  the  science  of  knowledge  itself  has  been 
created.  This  new  circle,  that  the  science  of  knowledge  at  the 
same  time  establishes  logic,  and  yet  according  to  the  laws  of 
logic  must  be  created,  finds  the  same  explanation  as  the  circle 
previously  set  forth.  Since  in  the  highest  fundamental  principles 
of  knowledge  the  form  and  the  content  are  mutually  conditioned, 
the  science  of  knowledge  must  be  equally  the  law  and  the  most 
perfect  exercise  of  scientific  form,  and  must  likewise  be  ab- 
solutely autonomous  in  its  form  as  well  as  in  its  content. 

SECTION  II.    DEDUCTION  OF  THE  PRINCIPLE  ITSELF 

We  speak  here  of  a  deduction  of  the  highest  principle.  There 
can  be  no  question  of  the  derivation  of  this  principle  from  a 
higher  one,  nor  in  general  of  a  proof  of  its  content.  The  proof 
can  only  relate  to  the  worth  of  this  principle,  that  is,  can  only 
prove  that  this  principle  is  the  highest  and  has  all  the  charac- 
teristics which  belong  to  a  highest  principle. 

This  deduction  can  be  made  by  very  different  methods.  We 
select  that  one,  which,  while  it  appears  to  us  to  be  the  easiest, 
at  the  same  time  permits  the  true  meaning  of  the  principle  to 
be  most  immediately  seen. 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          555 

1.  That  knowledge  is  possible  at  all  —  not  this  or  that  definite 
knowledge,  but  some  knowledge,  at  the  very  least  a  knowledge 
of  our  ignorance  —  the  sceptic  himself  admits.  If  we  know  any- 
thing, this  knowledge  is  either  conditioned  or  unconditioned. 
Conditioned  ?  then  we  know  it  only  because  it  is  connected  with 
something  unconditioned.   We  thus  come  in  any  case  to  an  un- 
conditioned knowledge.    (That  there  must  be  something  in  our 
knowledge  that  we  do  not  know  from  something  higher,  has 
already  been  proven  in  the  preceding  chapter.) 

The  only  question  is,   What  is  there  then  unconditionally 
known  ? 

2.  I  know  unconditionally  only  that,  the  knowledge  of  which 
is  conditioned  solely  by  the  subjective,  not  by  the  objective. 
Now  it  is  affirmed  that  only  such  knowledge  as  is  expressed  in 
identical  propositions  is  conditioned  solely  through  the  subjective. 
For  in  the  judgment  A  =  A  one  abstracts  entirely  from  the  con- 
tent of  the  subject  A.  Whether  A  has  reality  at  all  or  not  is  en- 
tirely indifferent  for  this  knowledge.    If,  therefore,  complete 
abstraction  is  made  of  the  reality  of  the  subject,  then  A  is  con- 
sidered solely  in  so  far  as  it  is  posited  in  us,  represented  by  us ; 
one  does  not  inquire  at  all  whether  something  outside  of  us 
corresponds  to  this  presentation.    The  proposition  is  evident 
and  certain,  regarded  entirely  apart  from  the  question  whether 
A  is  something  actually  existing,  or  merely  imagined,  or  itself 
impossible.    For  the  proposition  says  only  this :  When  I  think 
A,  I  think  nothing  but  A.   The  knowledge  in  this  proposition 
is  conditioned  solely  through  my  thinking  (the  subjective) ;  i.  e. 
according  to  the  explanation  it  is  unconditioned. 

3.  But  in  all  knowledge  an  objective  is  thought  as  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  subjective.  In  the  proposition  A=A  there  is  how- 
ever no  such  conjunction.  All  primal  knowledge  thus  goes  be- 
yond mere  conceptual  identity,  and  the  proposition  A=A  must 
itself  assume  such  knowledge.   When  I  think  A,  I  think  of  it,  to 
be  sure,  as  A ;  but  how  does  it  happen  that  I  think  A  ?  If  it  be 
an  idea  freely  created,  then  it  can  be  the  foundation  of  no  know- 
ledge ;  if  it  be  an  idea  accompanied  by  the  feeling  of  necessity, 
then  it  must  have  objective  reality. 


556  SCHELLING 

If  now  all  propositions  are  termed  synthetic  in  which  subject 
and  predicate  are  mediated  not  merely  by  the  identity  in  the 
act  of  thought  but  by  something  foreign  to  the  thought  and  dis- 
tinct from  it,  then  our  entire  knowledge  consists  solely  of  syn- 
thetic propositions,  and  only  in  such  propositions  is  there  actual 
knowledge,  i.  e.  knowledge  which  has  its  object  outside  of  us. 

4.  But  now  synthetic  propositions  are  not  unconditioned,  i.  e. 
certain  by  themselves,  for  only  the  identical  or  analytical  are 
such  (2).  Therefore  in  order  that  there  may  be  certainty  in  syn- 
thetic propositions — and  thereby  in  our  entire  knowledge — they 
must  be  carried  back  to  an  unconditioned  something,  that  is 
to  say,  to  the  identity  of  the  act  of  thought  in  general.   This 
however  contradicts  itself. 

5.  This  contradiction  would  be  capable  of  solution  only  in  the 
event  that  some  point  might  be  found  in  which  the  identical  and 
synthetical  coincide ;  or  in  the  event  that  a  proposition  could  be 
found,  which  while  it  is  identical  is  at  the  same  time  synthetic, 
and  while  it  is  synthetic  is  at  the  same  time  identical. 

In  view  of  those  propositions  in  which  an  entirely  foreign 
objective  is  in  conjunction  with  a  subjective  (and  this  happens 
in  every  synthetic  judgment  A  =  B ;  the  predicate  or  concept 
always  in  such  cases  represents  the  subjective,  and  the  subject 
the  objective),  it  is  inconceivable  how  certainty  can  be  attained. 

a.  Unless  there  is  something  absolutely  true.  For  if  there 
were  in  our  knowledge  an  infinite  regress  from  principle  to 
principle  in  order  to  attain  to  the  feeling  of  that  compulsion 
(of  the  certainty  of  the  proposition)  we  should  have  to  run 
backwards,  unconsciously  at  least,  through  that  infinite  regress. 
This  is  clearly  absurd.  If  the  regress  is  actually  infinite  then  it 
can  in  no  way  be  traversed.  If  it  is  not  infinite,  then  there  is 
something  absolutely  true.  If  such  absolute  certainty  exists, 
our  entire  knowledge  and  every  single  truth  in  our  knowledge 
must  be  interwoven  with  it.  The  obscure  feeling  of  this  connec- 
tion produces  that  feeling  of  compulsion  with  which  we  hold 
any  proposition  to  be  true.  This  obscure  feeling  ought  to  be 
resolved  by  philosophy  into  clear  concepts,  by  revealing  that 
connection  and  its  principal  links. 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          557 

b.  That  absolute  truth  can  only  be  identical  knowledge. 
Since  now  all  true  knowledge  is  synthetic,  it  follows  that  such 
absolute  truth,  inasmuch  as  it  is  an  identical  knowledge,  must  at 
the  same  time  be  also  a  synthetic  knowledge.  If  therefore  abso- 
lute truth  exists,  there  must  also  exist  a  point  where  the  syn- 
thetic knowledge  springs  immediately  from  the  identical,  and  the 
identical  from  the  synthetic. 

6.  In  order  to  solve  the  problem  how  to  find  such  a  point,  we 
must  undoubtedly  probe  still  deeper  into  the  opposition  be- 
tween identical  and  synthetic  propositions. 

In  every  proposition  two  concepts  are  compared  with  each 
other,  i.  e.,  they  are  posited  as  like  or  unlike  one  another.  Now 
in  the  identical  propositions  only  the  act  of  thought  is  compared 
with  itself.  The  synthetic  proposition  on  the  other  hand  goes 
beyond  the  mere  act  of  thought.  This  is  because  when  I  think 
the  subject  of  the  proposition  I  do  not  likewise  think  the  predi- 
cate, as  the  predicate  is  added  to  the  subject.  The  object  of  my 
thought  is  therefore  here  not  merely  determined  by  the  fact  that 
it  is  thought,  but  it  is  viewed  as  real,  for  real  is  precisely  that 
which  cannot  be  created  by  the  mere  thinking. 

If  now  an  identical  proposition  is  that  where  the  concept  is 
compared  only  with  the  concept,  and  a  synthetic  proposition 
that  where  the  concept  is  compared  with  the  object  differing 
from  it,  then  the  task  of  finding  a  point  where  the  identical 
knowledge  is  at  the  same  time  synthetic,  is  equivalent  to  finding 
a  point  in  which  the  object  and  its  concept,  the  thing  and  its  pre- 
sentation, are  originally,  directly,  and  without  any  mediation  one. 

That  this  problem  is  identical  with  that  of  finding  a  princi- 
ple of  all  knowledge,  can  be  still  more  briefly  proved.  How  the 
presentation  and  the  object  can  harmonize  is  wholly  inexplicable 
unless  there  is  in  knowledge  itself  a  point  where  both  are  originally 
one,  or  where  there  exists  the  most  perfect  identity  of  being  and 
of  presentation. 

7.  Since  now  the  presentation  is  the  subjective  and  the  being 
is  the  objective,  the  task,  when  it  is  most  accurately  set,  is  to  find 
the  point  where  the  subject  and  object  are  immediately  one. 

8.  By  this  gradual  restriction  of  the  task,  it  is  now  likewise  as 


558  SCHELLING 

good  as  solved.  The  unmediated  identity  of  the  subject  and 
object  can  exist  only  where  the  represented  is  likewise  the  repre- 
senting, the  perceived  also  the  perceiving.  But  this  identity  of  the 
represented  with  the  representing  exists  solely  in  self-conscious- 
ness. The  point  sought  is  therefore  found  in  self-consciousness. 

Explanations. 

a.  If  now  we  revert  to  the  fundamental  principle  of  identity 
A=A,  we  discover  that  we  can  derive  our  principle  directly  from 
it.  In  every  identical  proposition  it  was  affirmed  that  the  thought 
is  compared  with  itself ;  this  undoubtedly  takes  place  by  means 
of  an  act  of  thought.   The  proposition  A  =  A  therefore  presup- 
poses a  thought  that  becomes  immediately  an  object  to  itself; 
but  an  act  of  thought  which  becomes  its  own  object  exists  only 
in  self-consciousness.    It  is  certainly  incomprehensible  how  one 
can  seriously  derive  from  a  mere  proposition  of  logic  something 
real ;  but  it  is  truly  comprehensible  how  one  can  find  in  it  by  re- 
flection upon  the  act  of  thought  something  real,  e.  g.  the  cate- 
gories from  the  logical  function  of  judgment,  and  similarly  the 
act  of  self-consciousness  from  every  identical  proposition. 

b.  .That  the  subject  and  object  of  thought  are  one  in  self- 
consciousness  can  become  clear  to  every  one  solely  by  the  act  of 
self-consciousness  itself.  It  is  necessary  for  this  purpose  that  one 
at  the  same  tune  perform  this  act,  and  in  so  doing  reflect  again 
upon  one's  self.  Self -consciousness  is  the  act  whereby  the  think- 
ing itself  immediately  becomes  the  object,  and  conversely.  This 
act  and  none  other  is  self -consciousness.   Such  act  is  an  abso- 
lutely free  action,  to  which  one  can  indeed  be  guided  but  cannot 
be  compelled.    The  readiness  to  perceive  one's  self  in  this  act, 
to  discriminate  one's  self  both  as  thought  and  as  thinking,  and 
again  to  recognize  one's  self  as  identical  in  such  discrimination, 
is  constantly  presupposed  in  what  follows. 

c.  Self-consciousness  is  an  act,  but  by  every  act  something  is 
accomplished  for  us.  Every  thought  is  an  act,  and  every  definite 
thought  is  a  definite  act.   By  means  of  every  such  act  there  also 
arises  in  us  a  definite  conception.  The  conception  is  nothing  but 
the  act  of  thinking  itself,  and  abstracted  from  this  act  it  is  no- 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          559 

thing.  By  the  act  of  self-consciousness  there  must  likewise  origi- 
nate a  conception  for  us ;  and  this  is  no  other  than  the  conception 
of  the  Ego.  While  I  regard  myself  as  the  object  by  means  of  self- 
consciousness  there  originates  in  me  the  conception  of  the  Ego ; 
and  conversely  the  conception  of  the  Ego  is  only  the  conception 
of  self  becoming  its  own  object. 

d.  The  conception  of  the  Ego  is  accomplished  by  the  act  of 
self-consciousness.  Without  the  act,  therefore,  the  Ego  is  no- 
thing ;  its  entire  reality  depends  solely  upon  this  act.  The  Ego 
can  thus  be  conceived  only  as  act,  and  it  is  otherwise  nothing. 

Whether  the  external  object  is  nothing  different  from  its  con- 
ception, whether  also  here  conception  and  object  are  one,  is  a 
question  which  is  still  to  be  decided.  But  that  the  conception 
of  the  Ego,  that  is,  the  act  whereby  thought  becomes  its  own 
object,  and  the  Ego  itself  (the  object)  are  absolutely  one,  needs  no 
proof,  since  the  Ego  is  clearly  nothing  apart  from  the  act,  and  in 
general  exists  only  in  this  act. 

Here,  therefore,  is  that  original  identity  of  thought  and  of  ob- 
ject, of  appearance  and  of  being,  which  we  sought,  and  which  is 
nowhere  else  met  with.  The  Ego  does  not  exist  at  all  before  that 
act  whereby  the  thought  becomes  its  own  object.  It  is  therefore 
nothing  other  than  the  thought  becoming  itself  the  object,  and 
consequently  absolutely  nothing  apart  from  the  thought.  The 
reason  why  so  many  fail  to  see,  in  case  of  the  Ego,  that  its 
being  conceived  is  identical  with  its  being  originated  has  its 
explanation  solely  in  the  fact,  that  they  neither  can  perform  the 
act  of  self-consciousness  with  freedom,  nor  are  able  to  reflect 
upon  what  originates  in  this  very  act.  As  regards  the  first,  it  is  to 
be  remarked,  that  we  make  a  clear  distinction  between  self-con- 
sciousness as  act,  and  mere  empirical  consciousness.  What  we 
commonly  term  consciousness  is  merely  something  which  goes 
along  with  the  representations  of  objects,  something  which  main- 
tains identity  amid  the  change  of  representations.  It  is  thus 
purely  of  an  empirical  character,  for  indeed  I  am  thereby  con- 
scious of  myself,  but  only  as  of  one  having  representations.  The 
act  here  spoken  of  is  one,  however,  by  which  I  am  conscious  of 
myself,  not  as  having  this  or  that  determination,  but  originally,* 


560  SCHELLING 

and  this  consciousness,  in  contrast  with  the  other,  is  called  pure 
consciousness,  or  self-consciousness  KO.T'  e^oxrjv- 

The  genesis  of  these  two  kinds  of  consciousness  may  be 
made  clearer  in  the  following  way.  Let  one  abandon  himself 
wholly  to  the  involuntary  succession  of  representations,  then,  no 
matter  how  manifold  or  different  these  may  be,  they  will  never- 
theless appear  as  belonging  to  one  identical  subject.  But  if  I 
reflect  upon  this  identity  of  the  subject  in  the  representations, 
there  originates  for  me  the  proposition  7  think.  It  is  this  /  think 
that  accompanies  all  representations  and  maintains  in  them 
the  continuity  of  consciousness.  If  however  one  frees  one's 
self  from  every  act  of  representation  in  order  to  become  con- 
scious of  one's  original  self,  there  arises  not  the  proposition  7 
think,  but  the  proposition  7  am,  which  is  undoubtedly  a  higher 
one.  In  the  proposition  7  think  there  exists  already  the  expres- 
sion of  a  determination  or  affection  of  the  Ego ;  the  proposition 
7  am,  on  the  contrary,  is  an  infinite  proposition,  because  it  is 
one  which  has  no  real  predicate,  but  which,  for  that  very  reason, 
may  have  an  infinity  of  possible  predicates. 

e.  The  Ego  is  nothing  distinct  from  the  thought  of  it ;  the  thought 
of  the  Ego  and  the  Ego  itself  are  absolutely  one.  The  Ego,  there- 
fore, is  absolutely  nothing  apart  from  the  thought;  it  is  therefore 
als^no  thing,  no  affair,  but  endlessly  the  non-objective.  This  is  to 
be  understood  in  the  following  way.  The  Ego  is  indeed  object, 
but  only  for  itself,  and  is  thus  not  originally  in  the  world  of  ob- 
jects. It  becomes  an  object  only  by  the  very  fact  that  it  makes 
itself  its  own  object.  It  becomes  the  object  not  of  something 
external,  but  always  only  of  itself. 

Everything  that  is  not  Ego  is  originally  object,  and  for  this 
very  reason  is  an  object  not  to  itself,  but  to  something  perceiving 
outside  of  it.  The  original  objective  is  always  something  known, 
never  a  knower.  The  Ego  is  known  only  through  its  own  self- 
knowledge.  Matter  is  called  self -less  for  the  very  reason  that  it 
has  nothing  innermost,  and  exists  only  as  something  perceived 
in  a  foreign  perception. 

I .  If  the  Ego  is  no  thing,  no  affair,  then  one  cannot  ask  concern- 
ing any  predicate  of  the  Ego.  It  has  none  except  this,  that  it  is  no 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          561 

thing.  The  character  of  the  Ego  consists  in  having  no  other 
predicate  except  that  of  self-consciousness. 

The  same  result  can  also  be  reached  in  other  ways. 

That  which  is  the  highest  principle  of  knowledge  cannot 
have  its  ground  of  knowledge  in  something  higher.  Its  princi- 
pium  essendi  and  cognoscendi,  must  therefore  be  one,  and  coin- 
cide in  one. 

For  this  very  reason  the  unconditioned  can  never  be  sought 
in  any  one  thing;  for  what  is  object,  is  originally  also  object  of 
knowledge ;  whereas  what  is  a  principle  of  all  knowledge  cannot 
become  at  all  an  object  of  knowledge,  either  originally  or  in 
itself,  except  only  through  a  special  act  of  freedom. 

The  unconditioned  can  therefore  never  be  sought  in  the  world 
of  objects.  (Therefore  the  purely  objective,  or  matter,  is  for 
natural  science  nothing  original,  but  is  for  it  even  as  much 
appearance  as  it  is  for  transcendental  philosophy.) 

Unconditioned  is  termed  that  which  can  by  no  means  become 
a  thing,  or  an  affair.  The  first  task  of  philosophy  can  therefore 
be  thus  expressed:  to  find  something  which  absolutely  cannot 
be  thought  as  thing.  But  of  this  character  is  only  the  Ego,  and 
conversely,  the  Ego  is  that  which  is  in  itself  non-objective. 

g.  If  now  the  Ego  is  absolutely  no  object,  no  thing,  it  appears 
difficult  to  explain  how  in  general  a  knowledge  of  it  is  possible, 
or  what  kind  of  knowledge  we  have  of  it. 

The  Ego  is  pure  act,  pure  doing,  and,  because  it  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  all  knowledge,  must  be  absolutely  non-objective  in  know- 
ledge.  If  it  is,  therefore,  to  become  an  act  of  knowledge,  it  can 
become  known  only  in  a  way  entirely  different  from  common 
knowledge. 

This  knowledge  must  be : 

(a)  Absolutely  free,  because  all  other  knowledge  is  not  free. 
It  must,  therefore,  be  a  knowledge  to  which  the  way  is  not  by 
proofs,  conclusions,  and  the  mediation  of  concepts.  It  is  there- 
fore in  general  an  intuition. 

(6)  It  must  also  be  a  knowledge  whose  object  is  not  independ- 
ent of  it,  and  is  therefore  a  knowledge  which  is  at  the  same  time 
productive  of  its  object.  It  is  an  intuition  which  is  altogether 


562  SCHELLING 

freely  productive,  and  in  which  the  producing  is  one  and  the 
same  with  the  produced. 

Such  an  intuition  is  termed  intellectual  intuition,  in  contrast 
with  the  sensible  intuition,  which  never  appears  as  productive 
of  its  object,  and  in  which  therefore  the  perceiving-itself  is  dis- 
tinct from  the  perceived. 

Such  an  intuition  is  the  Ego,  because  through  the  knowledge 
the  Ego  has  of  itself,  the  Ego  itself  (the  object)  first  originates. 
Since  the  Ego  (as  object)  is  none  other  than  this  very  knowledge 
of  itself,  the  Ego  originates  solely  by  the  fact  that  it  knows  itself. 
The  Ego  itself  is,  therefore,  a  knowledge  which  at  the  same  time 
creates  itself  (as  object). 

The  intellectual  intuition  is  the  organ  of  all  transcendental 
thinking.  For  the  whole  aim  of  transcendental  thought  is  freely 
to  transform  into  its  own  object  something  which  is  otherwise 
no  object.  It  presupposes  a  faculty  to  produce  and  at  the  same 
time  to  perceive  certain  functions  of  the  soul,  so  that  the  pro- 
ducing of  the  object  and  the  perceiving  are  absolutely  one.  This 
faculty,  however,  is  precisely  the  faculty  of  intellectual  intuition. 

Transcendental  philosophizing  must  therefore  be  constantly 
accompanied  by  intellectual  intuition.  All  pretence  that  this 
philosophizing  cannot  be  understood  has  its  cause  not  in  the 
unintelligibility  of  it,  but  in  the  defect  of  the  organ  whereby  it 
must  be  comprehended.  Apart  from  this  intuition,  philosophiz- 
ing has  itself  no  substratum  that  might  cause  and  support 
thought.  This  very  intuition  supplies  the  place  of  the  objective 
world  in  the  transcendental  thought,  and,  as  it  were,  carries  the 
flight  of  speculation.  The  Ego  itself  is  an  object  that  exists  by 
virtue  of  the  fact  that  it  has  knowledge  of  itself,  that  is,  it  is  a 
constant  intellectual  intuition.  Since  the  sole  object  of  tran- 
scendental philosophy  is  this  self-producing  activity,  the  intel- 
lectual intuition  is  for  it  precisely  what  space  is  for  geometry. 
Just  as  without  intuition  of  space,  geometry  would  be  absolutely 
incomprehensible,  because  all  its  constructions  are  only  different 
methods  and  ways  of  qualifying  that  intuition,  so  without  the 
intellectual  intuition,  all  philosophy  would  be  incomprehensible, 
because  all  its  conceptions  are  only  different  qualifications  of 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          563 

that  production  which  has  itself  for  an  object,  that  is,  of  the 
intellectual  intuition  (cf.  Fichte's  "Einleitung  in  die  Wissen- 
schaftslehre  "  in  the  "  Philosophisches  Journal  "). 

No  reason  need  be  given  why  people  have  perceived  something 
mysterious  in  this  intuition,  some  special  sense  feigned  by  a  few, 
except  that  some  persons  are  really  without  it.  This,  however, 
is  no  more  strange  than  that  they  still  entirely  lack  many  an- 
other sense  whose  reality  is  as  little  involved  in  doubt. 

h.  The  Ego  is  nothing  other  than  a  producing  which  becomes 
its  own  object,  i.  e.  it  is  an  intellectual  intuition.  But  this  in- 
tellectual intuition  is  itself  an  absolutely  free  act.  It  can  there- 
fore not  be  demonstrated,  but  only  demanded.  The  Ego  itself 
is  solely  this  intuition ;  the  Ego  therefore  as  principle  of  philoso- 
phy is  itself  only  something  that  is  postulated. 

Since  the  time  that  Reinhold  made  the  scientific  founding  of 
philosophy  his  aim,  there  has  been  much  talk  of  a  first  funda- 
mental proposition  from  which  philosophy  would  have  to  pro- 
ceed. By  this  one  generally  understood  a  theorem  in  which  the 
entire  philosophy  should  be  involved.  But  it  is  easily  perceived 
that  transcendental  philosophy  can  proceed  from  no  theorem, 
because  it  proceeds  from  the  subjective,  that  is,  from  that  which 
can  become  objective  only  by  a  distinct  act  of  freedom.  A  theo- 
rem is  a  proposition  which  depends  upon  being.  Transcenden- 
tal philosophy,  however,  proceeds  from  no  being,  but  from  a  free 
act ;  and  this  can  only  be.  postulated.  Every  science  that  is  not 
empirical  must  by  its  first  principle  already  exclude  all  empiri- 
cism, that  is,  must  presuppose  its  object  as  not  already  existing 
but  must  create  it.  In  this  way,  for  example,  geometry  proceeds, 
since  it  starts  not  from  theorems  but  from  postulates.  It  is 
because  the  most  primal  construction  in  it  is  postulated,  and  is 
left  to  the  pupil  to  create,  that  he  is  at  the  very  outset  sent 
back  to  self -construction.  It  is  just  the  same  with  transcendental 
philosophy.  Unless  one  bring  to  it  the  transcendental  method  of 
thought,  one  must  find  it  incomprehensible.  It  is,  therefore, 
necessary  that  one  place  one's  self  at  the  outset  through  freedom 
in  that  method  of  thought ;  and  this  takes  place  by  means  of 
the  free  act  whereby  the  principle  originates.  If  it  be  a  fact  that 


564.  SCHELLING 

transcendental  philosophy  does  not  presuppose  its  objects,  it 
certainly  cannot  presuppose  its  first  object,  the  principle ;  it  can 
postulate  it  only  as  one  freely  to  be  constructed.  As  the  principle 
is  of  its  own  construction,  so  are  also  all  its  remaining  concepts ; 
and  the  entire  science  has  to  do  with  its  own  free  constructions. 

If  the  principle  of  philosophy  is  a  postulate,  then  the  object 
of  this  postulate  must  be  the  most  primal  construct  for  the  in- 
ner sense,  i.  e.  must  be  the  Ego,  not  in  so  far  as  it  is  determined 
in  this  or  that  particular  way,  but  the  Ego  in  general,  as  pro- 
duction of  itself.  Through  and  in  this  primal  construct,  it  is 
true,  something  definite  is  effected,  just  as  always  happens  by 
every  definite  act  of  the  soul.  But  the  product  is  surely  nothing 
without  the  construction;  in  fact  it  exists  only  in  that  it  is 
constructed;  abstracted  from  the  construction  it  exists  as  little 
as  the  line  of  the  geometer.  The  geometrical  line  also  is  nothing 
existing,  for  the  line  on  the  board  is,  as  we  know,  not  the  line 
itself,  but  is  recognized  only  as  such  because  it  is  taken  in  con- 
nection with  the  original  intuition  of  the  line  itself. 

What  the  Ego  is,  is  for  this  reason  just  as  little  demonstrable 
as  what  the  line  is :  one  can  only  describe  the  action  by  which  it 
originates.  If  the  line  could  be  demonstrated  it  would  not  need 
to  be  postulated.  It  is  just  the  same  with  that  transcendental 
line  of  the  production  which  must  be  originally  intuited  in  tran- 
scendental philosophy,  and  from  which  all  other  constructions 
of  the  science  first  proceed  (cf.  "Allgemeine  Uebersicht  der 
philosophischen  Literatur"  in  New  Philos.  Journal,  10.  Hft). 

i.  What  comes  to  us  by  the  original  act  of  intellectual  intui- 
tion can  be  expressed  in  a  fundamental  principle  which  one  can 
term  the  first  fundamental  principle  of  philosophy.  Now  the  Ego 
originates  through  the  intellectual  intuition  in  so  far  as  it  is  its 
own  product,  that  is,  is  at  the  same  time  producing  and  produced. 
This  identity  between  the  Ego  in  so  far  as  it  is  the  producing  and 
the  Ego  as  produced  is  expressed  in  the  proposition  the  1  =  1. 
This  proposition,  since  it  places  opposites  as  equal,  is  by  no  means 
an  identical,  but  a  synthetic  proposition. 

By  means  of  the  proposition  1  =  1,  the  proposition  A=A  is 
therefore^  transformed  into  a  synthetical  proposition,  and  we 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          565 

have  found  the  point  where  the  identical  knowledge  springs  im- 
mediately from  the  synthetical,  and  the  synthetical  knowledge 
from  the  identical.  But  at  this  point  also  is  found  (Chap.  I)  the 
principle  of  all  knowledge.  In  the  proposition  1  =  1,  therefore, 
the  principle  of  all  knowledge  must  be  expressed,  because  this 
proposition  is  indeed  the  only  possible  one,  that  is  at  the  same 
time  identical  and  synthetical. 

The  mere  reflection  upon  the  proposition  A= A  could  have  led 
us  to  the  same  conclusion.  The  proposition  A  =  A  appears,  to  be 
sure,  identical ;  it  could,  however,  very  well  also  have  synthetical 
significance,  that  is,  if  the  one  A  were  opposed  to  the  other.  One 
would  therefore  have  to  substitute  in  the  place  of  A,  a  conception 
which  expresses  the  original  duplicity  of  identity,  and  vice  versa. 

Such  a  conception  is  that  of  an  object  which  is  at  the  same 
time  opposed  to  and  on  an  equality  with  itself.  But  of  such 
character  is  only  an  object  which  in  itself  is  both  cause  and 
effect,  producing  and  produced,  subject  and  object.  The  con- 
ception of  an  original  identity  in  duplicity,  and  conversely,  is 
therefore  solely  the  conception  of  a  subject-object,  and  this  oc- 
curs originally  only  in  self-consciousness. 

Natural  science  sets  out  from  nature  as  at  once  arbitrarily  the 
producing  and  the  produced,  in  order  to  derive  the  individual 
from  that  conception.  The  unmediated  object  of  knowledge 
is  such  an  identity  only  in  the  unmediated  self-consciousness, 
in  the  highest  potency  of  becoming  its  own  object,  in  which  the 
transcendental  philosopher  at  the  outset  places  himself,  not  arbi- 
trarily, but  with  freedom.  The  original  duplicity  in  nature  is  itself 
ultimately  explained  only  by  assuming  nature  to  be  intelligible. 

k.  The  proposition  1=1  meets  at  the  same  time  the  second 
demand  which  is  made  of  the  principle  of  knowledge,  that  it 
establish  at  once  both  the  form  and  the  content  of  knowledge.  For 
the  highest  formal  fundamental  proposition  A=A,  is  of  course 
only  possible  by  the  act  which  is  expressed  by  the  proposition 
1  =  1,  that  is,  by  the  act  of  thinking  which  becomes  its  own 
object,  and  is  identical  with  itself.  The  proposition  1  =  1  is 
therefore  so  far  from  being  conditioned  by  the  fundamental 
proposition  of  identity,  that  on  the  contrary  this  latter  is  con- 


566  SCHELLING 

ditioned  by  the  former.  For  if  I  were  not  I,  then  A  could  also 
not  be  A,  because  the  equality  which  is  posited  in  that  proposition 
expresses  after  all  only  an  equality  between  the  subject  which 
judges  and  that  in  which  A  is  posited  as  object,  that  is,  an  equal- 
ity between  the  Ego  as  subject  and  object. 

General    Comments. 

1.  The  contradiction  which  has  been  solved  by  the  foregoing 
deduction  is  the  following :  the  science  of  knowledge  can  proceed 
from  nothing  objective,  since  it  begins  precisely  with  the  uni- 
versal doubt  in  the  reality  of  the  objective.   The  unconditioned- 
certain,  therefore,  exists  for  it  only  in  the  absolute  non-objective 
which  also  proves  the  non-objectivity  of  the  identical  proposi- 
tions as  the  solely  unconditioned-certain.  But  how  the  objective 
could  arise  from  this  original  non-objective  would  not  be  con- 
ceivable, unless  that  non-objective  were  an  Ego,  that  is,  a  prin- 
ciple that  becomes  its  own  object.    Only  what  is  not  originally 
object,  can  make  itself  the  object,  and  thereby  become  an  object. 
From  this  original  duplicity  in  itself,  every  objective  for  the  Ego 
is  evolved  that  comes  into  consciousness ;  and  it  is  that  original 
identity  in  duplicity  which  alone  brings  union  and  coherence 
into  all  synthetic  knowledge. 

2.  Some  remarks  may  still  be  necessary  on  the  use  of  lan- 
guage in  this  philosophy. 

Kant  in  his  anthropology  finds  it  remarkable  that  a  new 
world  appears  to  spring  up  to  the  child  as  soon  as  it  begins  to 
speak  of  itself  as  I.  This  is  in  fact  very  natural :  it  is  the  in- 
tellectual world  which  reveals  itself  to  him,  since  whatever  can 
say  I  to  itself  lifts  itself  thereby  above  the  objective  world,  and 
enters  from  a  foreign  intuition  into  its  own.  Philosophy  must 
undoubtedly  proceed  from  that  conception  in  which  the  entire 
intellectuality  is  contained,  and  from  which  it  is  developed. 

From  this  very  fact  one  must  see  that  in  the  conception  of  the 
Ego  there  exists  something  higher  than  the  mere  expression  of 
individuality.  It  is  the  very  act  of  self-consciousness  indeed, 
with  which  the  consciousness  of  individuality  makes  its  simul- 
taneous appearance,  but  which  itself  contains  nothing  individ 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM          567 

ual.  Heretofore  the  discussion  has  been  only  of  the  Ego  as  the 
mere  act  of  self  -  consciousness ;  and  from  it  all  individuality 
must  yet  be  derived. 

Under  the  Ego  as  principle,  the  individual  I  is  thought  of  just 
as  little  as  is  the  empirical  I,  —  the  I  which  appears  in  empiri- 
cal consciousness.  The  pure  consciousness  determined  and  re- 
stricted in  a  different  way  yields  the  empirical  consciousness. 
The  two,  therefore,  are  separated  merely  by  their  restrictions. 
Remove  the  restrictions  of  the  empirical  and  you  have  the  ab- 
solute Ego,  which  is  here  treated.  The  pure  self-consciousness 
is  an  act  which  lies  outside  of  all  time  and  itself  constitutes  all 
time ;  the  empirical  consciousness  is  only  one  creating  itself  in 
time,  and  in  the  succession  of  representations. 

The  question  whether  the  Ego  is  a  thing  in  itself,  or  a  phe- 
nomenon, is  of  itself  contradictory.  It  is  in  general  no  thing, 
neither  thing  in  itself,  nor  phenomenon. 

The  dilemma  which  one  may  here  bring  forward  in  reply : 
Everything  must  either  be  something  or  nothing,  etc.,  rests  upon 
the  ambiguity  of  the  concept  something.  If  the  something  in  gen- 
eral is  intended  to  designate  something  real  in  contrast  with  the 
merely  imagined,  then  the  Ego  must  indeed  be  something  real, 
since  it  is  the  principle  of  all  reality.  And  just  as  clearly  is  it  true 
that  because  the  Ego  is  principle  of  all  reality,  it  cannot  then  be 
real  in  the  same  sense  as  that  to  which  belongs  merely  derived 
reality.  The  reality  which  such  objector  regards  as  the  true  one, 
namely  that  of  things,  is  merely  derived,  and  is  only  the  reflec- 
tion of  that  higher  reality.  The  dilemma  strictly  viewed  is  thus 
equivalent  to  saying:  Everything  is  either  a  thing  or  nothing. 
This  is  manifestly  false,  since  there  certainly  exists  a  higher 
conception  than  that  of  the  thing,  namely,  that  of  the  deed,  or 
of  the  activity. 

This  conception  must  indeed  be  higher  than  that  of  the  thing, 
since  the  things  themselves  are  to  be  conceived  only  as  modifi- 
cations of  an  activity  limited  in  different  ways.  The  being  of  the 
thing  does  not  indeed  consist  in  mere  rest  or  inactivity.  For 
even  all  space-filling  is  only  a  degree  of  activity,  and  every  thing 
is  only  a  determined  degree  of  activity  with  which  space  is  filled. 


568  SCHELLING 

Since  none  of  the  predicates  which  attach  to  things  belong 
to  the  Ego,  the  paradox  is  thereby  explained,  that  one  cannot  say 
of  the  Ego,  that  it  is.  One  is  unable  to  predicate  being  of  the 
Ego,  just  because  the  Ego  is  being  itself.  The  eternal  act  of  self- 
consciousness  conceived  as  in  no  time,  which  we  term  Ego,  is 
what  gives  existence  to  all  things,  and  which  therefore  needs  no 
other  existence  by  which  to  be  supported;  but  appears  self- 
carrying  and  self-supporting,  objectively  as  the  eternal  becom- 
ing, subjectively  as  the  infinite  producing. 

3.  Before  we  proceed  to  the  setting  up  of  the  system  itself,  it 
may  be  well  to  show  how  the  principle  can  establish  at  the  same 
time  both  theoretical  and  practical  philosophy.   That  it  does  this 
is  a  necessary  character  of  the  principle,  and  is  thus  obvious. 

That  the  principle  should  be  at  the  same  time  the  principle  of 
theoretical  and  practical  philosophy,  is  impossible,  unless  it  be 
both  theoretical  and  practical.  Since  now  a  theoretical  principle 
is  a  theorem,  but  a  practical  principle  is  a  command,  something 
must  be  intermediate  between  the  two.  This  is  the  postulate. 
It  borders  on  the  practical  philosophy  because  it  is  a  pure 
demand,  and  on  the  theoretical  because  it  requires  a  purely 
theoretical  construction.  What  the  postulate  derives  its  compul- 
sory power  from  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  it  is  allied  to  the 
practical  demands.  The  intellectual  intuition  is  something  that 
one  can  demand  and  expect.  Whoever  has  not  such  faculty  at 
least  ought  to  have  it. 

4.  What  every  one  who  has  attentively  followed  us  thus  far 
perceives  for  himself  is  that  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  this 
philosophy  is  freedom,  the  absolutely  indemonstrable,  that  which 
proves  itself  by  itself.   What  in  all  other  systems  threatens  the 
destruction  of  freedom  is  in  this  system  derived  from  itself. 
Being,  in  this  system,  is  only  suspended  freedom.  In  a  system 
which  makes  being  the  first  and  highest,  not  only  must  know- 
ledge be  a  mere  copy  of  an  original  being,   but  all  freedom 
must  also  be  only  a  necessary  deception,  because  one  is  igno- 
rant of  the  principle  whose  movements  constitute  the  apparent 
manifestations  of  freedom. 


GEORG  WILHELM    FRIEDRICH   HEGEL 

(1770-1831) 

THE   LOGIC   OF   HEGEL 

Translated  from  the  German*  by 
WILLIAM    WALLACE 

CHAPTER   I.     INTRODUCTION 

i.  PHILOSOPHY  misses  an  advantage  enjoyed  by  the  other 
sciences.  It  cannot  like  them  rest  the  existence  of  its  objects 
on  the  natural  admissions  of  consciousness,  nor  can  it  assume 
that  its  method  of  cognition,  either  for  starting  or  for  cojyinuing, 
is  one  already  accepted.  The  objects  of  philosophy,  it  is  true, 
are  upon  the  whole  the  same,  as  those  of  religion.  In  bd^the 
object  is  Truth,  in  that  supreme  sense  in  which  God  and  God 
only  is  the  Truth.  Both  in  like  manner  go  on  to  treat  of  the 
finite  worlds  of  Nature  and  the  human  Mind,  with  their  relation 
to  each  other  and  to  their  truth  in  God.  Some  acquaintance 
with  its  objects,  therefore,  philosophy  may  and  even  must  pre- 
sume, that  and  a  certain  interest  in  them  to  boot,  were  it  for  no 
other  reason  than  this:  that  in  point  of  time  the  mind  makes 
general  images  of  objects,  long  before  it  makes  notions  of  them, 
and  that  it  is  only  through  these  mental  images,  and  by  recourse 
to  them,  that  the  thinking  mind  rises  to  know  and  comprehend 
thinkingly. 

But  with  the  rise  of  this  thinking  study  of  things,  it  soon  be- 
comes evident  that  thought  will  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short 
of  showing  the  necessity  of  its  facts,  of  demonstrating  the  exist- 
ence of  its  objects,  as  well  as  their  nature  and  qualities.  Our 
original  acquaintance  with  them  is  thus  discovered  to  be  inade- 
quate. We  can  assume  nothing,  and  assert  nothing  dogmatically ; 

*  From  the  Encyclopaedic  der  philosophischen  Wissenschaften  im  Grundrisse 
(i.  Thl.  Die  Logik),  Heidelberg,  1817;  2.  verm.  Aufl.  1827.  Reprinted  here  from 
The  Logic  of  Hegel,  trans,  by  Wm.  Wallace.  2d  rev.  ed.,  Oxford,  Clarendon 
Press,  1892. 


570      ,  HEGEL 

nor  can  we  accept  the  assertions  and  assumptions  of  others. 
And  yet  we  must  make  a  beginning :  and  a  beginning,  as  primary 
and  underived,  makes  an  assumption,  or  rather  is  an  assumption. 
It  seems  as  if  it  were  impossible  to  make  a  beginning  at  all. 

2.  This  thinking  study  oj  things  may  serve,  in  a  general  way, 
as  a  description  of  philosophy.  But  the  description  is  too  wide. 
If  it  be  correct  to  say,  that  thought  makes  the  distinction  between 
man  and  the  lower  animals,  then  everything  human  is  human, 
for  the  sole  and  simple  reason  that  it  is  due  to  the  operation  of 
thought.  Philosophy,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  peculiar  mode  of 
thinking  —  a  mode  in  which  thinking  becomes  knowledge,  and 
knowledge  through  notions.  However  great  therefore  may  be 
the  identity  and  essential  unity  of  the  two  modes  of  thought, 
the  philosophic  mode  gets  to  be  different  from  the  more  general 
thought,,  which  acts  in  all  that  is  human,  in  all  that  gives  hu- 
manity its  distinctive  character.  And  this  difference  connects 
itse]||^ith  the  fact  that  the  strictly  human  and  thought-induced 
phenomena  of  consciousness  do  not  originally  appear  in  the 
form  of  a  thought,  but  as  a  feeling,  a  perception,  or  mental 
image  —  all  of  which  aspects  must  be  distinguished  from  the 
form  of  thought  proper. 

n.  The  special  conditions  which  call  for  the  existence  of 
philosophy  may  be  thus  described.  The  mind  or  spirit,  when  it 
is  sentient  or  perceptive,  finds  its  object  in  something  sensuous ; 
when  it  imagines,  in  a  picture  or  image;  when  it  wills,  in  an 
aim  or  end.  But  in  contrast  to,  or  it  may  be  only  in  distinction 
from,  these  forms  of  its  existence  and  of  its  objects,  the  mind 
has  also  to  gratify  the  cravings  of  its  highest  and  most  inward 
life.  That  innermost  self  is  thought.  Thus  the  mind  renders 
thought  its  object.  In  the  best  meaning  of  the  phrase,  it  comes 
to  itself ;  for  thought  is  its  principle,  and  its  very  unadulterated 
self.  But  while  thus  occupied,  thought  entangles  itself  in  con- 
tradictions, i.  e.  loses  itself  in  the  hard-and-fast  non-identity 
of  its  thoughts,  and  so,  instead  of  reaching  itself,  is  caught  and 
held  in  its  counterpart.  This  result,  to  which  honest  but  narrow 
thinking  leads  the  mere  understanding,  is  resisted  by  the  loftier 
craving  of  which  we  have  spoken.  That  craving  expresses  the 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  571 

perseverance  of  thought,  which  continues  true  to  itself,  even  in 
this  conscious  loss  of  its  native  rest  and  independence,  ''that  it 
may  overcome"  and  work  out  in  itself  the  solution  of  its  own 
contradictions. 

To  see  that  thought  in  its  very  nature  is  dialectical,  and  that, 
as  understanding,  it  must  fall  into  contradiction,  —  the  negative 
of  itself,  will  form  one  of  the  main  lessons  of  logic.  When  thought 
grows  hopeless  of  ever  achieving,  by  its  own  means,  the  solution 
of  the  contradiction  which  it  has  by  its  own  action  brought  upon 
itself,  it  turns  back  to  those  solutions  of  the  question  with  which 
the  mind  had  learned  to  pacify  itself  in  some  of  its  other  modes 
and  forms.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  retreat  of  thought  has 
led  it,  as  Plato  noticed  even  in  his  time,  to  a  very  uncalled-for 
hatred  of  reason  (misology);  and  it  then  takes  up  against  its 
own  endeavours  that  hostile  attitude  of  which  an  example  is 
seen  in  the  doctrine  that  "immediate"  knowledge,  as  it  is  called, 
is  the  exclusive  form  in  which  we  become  cognisant  of  truth. 

12.  The  rise  of  philosophy  is  due  to  these  cravings  of  thought. 
Its  point  of  departure  is  Experience ;  including  under  that  name 
both  our  immediate  consciousness  and  the  inductions  from  it. 
Awakened,  as  it  were,  by  this  stimulus,  thought  is  vitally  charac- 
terised by  raising  itself  above  the  natural  state  of  mind,  above 
the  senses  and  inferences  from  the  senses  into  its  own  unadul- 
terated element,  and  by  assuming,  accordingly,  at  first  a  stand- 
aloof  and  negative  attitude  towards  the  point  from  which  it 
started.  Through  this  state  of  antagonism  to  the  phenomena 
of  sense  its  first  satisfaction  is  found  in  itself,  in  the  Idea  of  the/ 
universal  essence  of  these  phenomena:  an  Idea  (the  Absolute, 
'or  God)  which  may  be  more  or  less  abstract.  Meanwhile,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  sciences,  based  on  experience,  exert  upon  the 
mind  a  stimulus  to  overcome  the. form  in  which  their  varied 
contents  are  presented,  and  to  elevate  these  contents  to  the  rank 
of  necessary  truth.  For  the  facts  of  science  have  the  aspect  of  a 
vast  conglomerate,  one  thing  coming  side  by  side  with  another, 
as  if  they  were  merely  given  and  presented,  —  as  in  short  devoid 
of  all  essential  or  necessary  connexion.  In  consequence  of  this 
stimulus  thought  is  dragged  out  of  its  unrealised  universality 


572  HEGEL 

and  its  fancied  or  merely  possible  satisfaction,  and  impelled 
onwards  to  a  development  from  itself.  On  one  hand  this  de- 
velopment only  means  that  thought  incorporates  the  contents  of 
science,  in  all  their  speciality  of  detail  as  submitted.  On  the 
other  it  makes  these  contents  imitate  the  action  of  the  original 
creative  thought,  and  present  the  aspect  of  a  free  evolution  de- 
termined by  the  logic  of  the  fact  alone. 

15.  Each  of  the  parts  of  philosophy  is  a  philosophical  whole, 
a  circle  rounded  and  complete  in  itself.  In  each  of  these  parts, 
however,  the  philosophical  Idea  is  found  hi  a  particular  specifi- 
cality  or  medium.  The  single  circle,  because  it  is  a  real  totality, 
bursts  through  the  limits  imposed  by  its  special  medium,  and 
gives  rise  to  a  wider  circle.  The  whole  of  philosophy  in  this  way 
resembles  a  circle  of  circles.  The  Idea  appears  in  each  single 
circle,  but,  at  the  same  time,  the  whole  Idea  is  constituted  by 
the  system  of  these  peculiar  phases,  and  each  is  a  necessary 
member  of  the  organisation. 

17.  It  may  seem  as  if  philosophy,  in  order  to  start  on  its 
course,  had,  like  the  rest  of  the  sciences,  to  begin  with  a  sub- 
jective presupposition.  The  sciences  postulate  their  respective 
objects,  such  as  space,  number,  or  whatever  it  be ;  and  it  might 
be  supposed  that  philosophy  had  also  to  postulate  the  existence 
of  thought.  But  the  two  cases  are  not  exactly  parallel.  It  is  by 
the  free  act  of  thought  that  it  occupies  a  point  of  view,  in  which 
it  is  for  its  own  self,  and  thus  gives  itself  an  object  of  its  own 
production.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  very  point  of  view,  which  origi- 
nally is  taken  on  its  own  evidence  only,  must  in  the  course  of  the 
science  be  converted  to  a  result,  —  the  ultimate  result  in  which 
philosophy  returns  into  itself  and  reaches  the  point  with  which 
it  began.  In  this  manner  philosophy  exhibits  the  appearance 
of  a  circle  which  closes  with  itself,  and  has  no  beginning  in  the 
same  way  as  the  other  sciences  have.  To  speak  of  a  beginning 
of  philosophy  has  a  meaning  only  in  relation  to  a  person  who 
proposes  to  commence  the  study,  and  not  in  relation  to  the 
science  as  science.  The  same  thing  may  be  thus  expressed.  The 
notion  of  science  —  the  notion  therefore  with  which  we  start  - 
which,  for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  initial,  implies  a  separation 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  573 

between  the  thought  which  is  our  object,  and  the  subject  philo- 
sophising which  is,  as  it  were,  external  to  the  former,  must  be 
grasped  and  comprehended  by  the  science  itself.  This  is  in  short 
the  one  single  aim,  action,  and  goal  of  philosophy  —  to  arrive 
at  the  notion  of  its  notion,  and  thus  secure  its  return  and  its 
satisfaction. 

1 8.  As  the  whole  science,  and  only  the  whole,  can  exhibit 
what  the  Idea  or  system  of  reason  is,  it  is  impossible  to  give  in 
a  preliminary  way  a  general  impression  of  a  philosophy.  Nor 
can  a  division  of  philosophy  into  its  parts  be  intelligible,  except 
in  connexion  with  the  system.  A  preliminary  division,  like  the 
limited  conception  from  which  it  comes,  can  only  be  an  antici- 
pation. Here  however  it  is  premised  that  the  Idea  turns  out  to 
be  the  thought  which  is  completely  identical  with  itself,  and 
not  identical  simply  in  the  abstract,  but  also  in  its  action  of 
setting  itself  over  against  itself,  so  as  to  gain  a  being  of  its  own, 
and  yet  of  being  in  full  possession  of  itself  while  it  is  in  this 
other.  Thus  philosophy  is  subdivided  into  three  parts: 

I.  Logic,  the  science  of  the  Idea  in  and  for  itself. 

II.  The  Philosophy  of  Nature :  the  science  of  the  Idea  in  its 
otherness. 

III.  The  Philosophy  of  Mind:  the  science  of  the  Idea  come 
back  to  itself  out  of  that  otherness. 

As  observed  in  §  15,  the  differences  between  the  several  philo- 
sophical sciences  are  only  aspects  or  specialisations  of  the  one 
Idea  or  system  of  reason,  which  and  which  alone  is  alike  exhibited 
in  these  different  media.  In  Nature  nothing  else  would  have  to 
be  discerned,  except  the  Idea:  but  the  Idea  has  here  divested 
itself  of  its  proper  being.  In  Mind,  again,  the  Idea  has  asserted 
a  being  of  its  own,  and  is  on  the  way  to  become  absolute.  Every 
such  form  in  which  the  idea  is  expressed,  is  at  the  same  time  a 
passing  or  fleeting  stage :  and  hence  each  of  these  subdivisions 
has  not  only  to  know  its  contents  as  an  object  which  has  being 
for  the  time,  but  also  in  the  same  act  to  expound  how  these 
contents  pass  into  their  higher  circle.  To  represent  the  relation 
between  them  as  a  division,  therefore,  leads  to  misconception; 
for  it  co-ordinates  the  several  parts  or  sciences  one  beside  another, 


574  HEGEL 

as  if  they  had  no  innate  development,  but  were,  like  so  many 
species,  really  and  radically  distinct. 


CHAPTER   II.   PRELIMINARY   NOTION 

19.  LOGIC  is  THE  SCIENCE  OF  THE  PURE  IDEA;  pure,  that  is, 
because  the  Idea  is  in  the  abstract  medium  of  Thought. 

This  definition,  and  the  others  which  occur  hi  these  intro- 
ductory outlines,  are  derived  from  a  survey  of  the  whole  system, 
to  which  accordingly  they  are  subsequent.  The  same  remark 
applies  to  all  prefatory  notions  whatever  about  philosophy. 

Logic  might  have  been  defined  as  the  science  of  thought,  and 
of  its  laws  and  characteristic  forms.  But  thought,  as  thought, 
constitutes  only  the  general  medium,  or  qualifying  circumstance, 
which  renders  the  Idea  distinctively  logical.  If  we  identify  the 
Idea  with  thought,  thought  must  not  be  taken  in  the  sense  of  a 
method  or  form,  but  in  the  sense  of  the  self -developing  totality 
of  its  laws  and  peculiar  terms.  These  laws  are  the  work  of 
thought  itself,  and  not  a  fact  which  it  finds  and  must  submit  to. 

From  different  points  of  view,  Logic  is  either  the  hardest  or 
the  easiest  of  the  sciences.  Logic  is  hard,  because  it  has  to  deal 
not  with  perceptions,  nor,  like  geometry,  with  abstract  represen- 
tations of  the  senses,  but  with  pure  abstractions;  and  because 
it  demands  a  force  and  facility  of  withdrawing  into  pure  thought, 
of  keeping  firm  hold  on  it,  and  of  moving  in  such  an  element. 
Logic  is  easy,  because  its  facts  are  nothing  but  our  own  thought 
and  its  familiar  forms  or  terms :  and  these  are  the  acme  of  sim- 
plicity, the  a  b  c  of  everything  else.  They  are  also  what  we  are 
best  acquainted  with:  such  as,  "Is"  and  "Is  not" :  quality  and 
magnitude:  being  potential  and  being  actual:  one,  many,  and 
so  on.  But  such  an  acquaintance  only  adds  to  the  difficulties  of 
the  study ;  for  while,  on  the  one  hand,  we  naturally  think  it  is 
not  worth  our  trouble  to  occupy  ourselves  any  longer  with  things 
so  familiar,  on  the  other  hand,  the  problem  is  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  them  in  a  new  way,  quite  opposite  to  that  in 
which  we  know  them  already. 

The  utility  of  Logic  is  a  matter  which  concerns  its  bearings 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  575 

upon  the  student,  and  the  training  it  may  give  for  other  purposes. 
This  logical  training  consists  in  the  exercise  in  thinking  which 
the  student  has  to  go  through  (this  science  is  the  thinking  of 
thinking) :  and  in  the  fact  that  he  stores  his  head  with  thoughts 
in  their  native  unalloyed  character.  It  is  true  that  Logic,  being 
the  absolute  form  of  truth,  and  another  name  for  the  very  truth 
itself,  is  something  more  than  merely  useful.  Yet  if  what  is  no- 
blest, most  liberal  and  most  independent  is  also  most  useful, 
Logic  has  some  claim  to  the  latter  character.  Its  utility  must  then 
be  estimated  at  another  rate  than  exercise  in  thought  for  the  sake 
of  the  exercise. 

24.  With  these  explanations  and  qualifications,  thoughts 
may  be  termed  Objective  Thoughts,  —  among  which  are  also 
to  be  included  the  forms  which  are  more  especially  discussed  in 
the  common  logic,  where  they  are  usually  treated  as  forms  of 
conscious  thought  only.  Logic  therefore  coincides  w^th  Metaphys- 
ics, the  science  of  things  set  and  held  in  thoughts,  —  thoughts 
accredited  able  to  express  the  essential  reality  of  things. 

(2)  Logic  is  the  study  of  thought  pure  and  simple,  or  of 
the  pure  thought-forms.  In  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term, 
by  thought  we  generally  represent  to  ourselves  something  more 
than  simple  and  unmixed  thought;  we  mean  some  thought, 
the  material  of  which  is  from  experience.  Whereas  in  logic  a 
thought  is  understood  to  include  nothing  else  but  what  depends 
on  thinking  and  what  thinking  has  brought  into  existence.  It  is 
in  these  circumstances  that  thoughts  are  pure  thoughts.  The 
mind  is  then  in  its  own  home-element  and  therefore  free :  for 
freedom  means  that  the  other  thing  with  which  you  deal  is  a 
second  self  —  so  that  you  never  leave  your  own  ground  but 
give  the  law  to  yourself.  In  the  impulses  or  appetites  the  begin- 
ning is  from  something  else,  from  something  which  we  feel  to  be 
external.  In  this  case  then  we  speak  of  dependence.  For  free- 
dom it  is  necessary  that  we  should  feel  no  presence  of  something 
else  which  is  not  ourselves.  The  natural  man,  whose  motions 
follow  the  rule  only  of  his  appetites,  is  not  his  own  master.  Be 
he  as  self-willed  as  he  may,  the  constituents  of  his  will  and 


576  HEGEL 

opinion  are  not  his  own,  and  his  freedom  is  merely  formal. 
But  when  we  think,  we  renounce  our  selfish  and  particular 
being,  sink  ourselves  in  the  thing,  allow  thought  to  follow  its 
own  course,  —  and,  if  we  add  anything  of  our  own,  we  think 
ill. 

If  in  pursuance  of  the  foregoing  remarks  we  consider  Logic 
to  be  the  system  of  the  pure  types  of  thought,  we  find  that  the 
other  philosophical  sciences,  the  Philosophy  of  Nature  and  the 
Philosophy  of  Mind,  take  the  place,  as  it  were,  of  an  Applied 
Logic,  and  that  Logic  is  the  soul  which  animates  them  both. 
Their  problem  in  that  case  is  only  to  recognise  the  logical  forms 
under  the  shapes  they  assume  in  Nature  and  Mind,  —  shapes 
which  are  only  a  particular  mode  of  expression  for  the  forms 
of  pure  thought.  If  for  instance  we  take  the  syllogism  (not  as  it 
was  understood  in  the  old  formal  logic,  but  at  its  real  value), 
we  shall  find  it  gives  expression  to  the  law  that  the  particular  is 
the  middle  term  which  fuses  together  the  extremes  of  the  universal 
and  the  singular.  The  syllogistic  form  is  a  universal  for^m  of 
all  things.  Everything  that  exists  is  a  particular,  which  couples 
together  the  universal  and  the  singular.  But  Nature  is  weak  and 
fails  to  exhibit  the  logical  forms  in  their  purity.  Such  a  feeble 
exemplification  of  the  syllogism  may  be  seen  in  the  magnet.  In 
the  middle  or  point  of  indifference  of  a  magnet,  its  two  poles, 
however  they  may  be  distinguished,  are  brought  into  one. 
Physics  also  teaches  us  to  see  the  universal  or  essence  in  Nature  : 
and  the  only  difference  between  it  and  the  Philosophy  of  Nature 
is  that  the  latter  brings  before  our  mind  the  adequate  forms  of 
the  notion  in  the  physical  world. 

It  will  now  be  understood  that  Logic  is  the  all-animating 
spirit  of  all  the  sciences,  and  its  categories  the  spiritual  hier- 
archy. They  are  the  heart  and  centre  of  things :  and  yet  at  the 
same  time  they  are  always  on  our  lips,  and,  apparently  at  least, 
perfectly  familiar  objects.  But  things  thus  familiar  are  usually 
the  greatest  strangers.  Being,  for  example,  is  a  category  of  pure 
thought:  but  to  make  "Is"  an  object  of  investigation  never 
occurs  to  us.  Common  fancy  puts  the  Absolute  far  away  in  a 
world  beyond.  The  Absolute  is  rather  directly  before  us,  so 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  577 

present  that  so  long  as  we  think,  we  must,  though  without  ex- 
press consciousness  of  it,  always  carry  it  with  us  and  always  use 
it.  Language  is  the  main  depository  of  these  types  of  thought ; 
and  one  use  of  the  grammatical  instruction  which  children  re- 
ceive is  unconsciously  to  turn  their  attention  to  distinctions  of 
thought. 

To  ask  if  a  category  is  true  or  not,  must  sound  strange  to  the 
ordinary  mind:  for  a  category  apparently  becomes  true  only 
when  it  is  applied  to  a  given  object,  and  apart  from  this  appli- 
cation it  would  seem  meaningless  -to  inquire  into  its  truth.  But 
this  is  the  very  question  on  which  everything  turns.  We  must 
however  in  the  first  place  understand  clearly  what  we  mean  by 
Truth.  In  common  life  truth  means  the  agreement  of  an  object 
with  our  conception  of  it.  We  thus  pre-suppose  an  object  to 
which  our  conception  must  conform.  In  the  philosophical  sense 
of  the  word,  on  the  other  hand,  truth  may  be  described,  in  general 
abstract  terms,  as  the  agreptnpnt  nf  a  thnnght-rnntpnt  with  fr- 
_self._This  meaning  is  quite  different  from  the  one  given  above. 
At  the  same  time  the  deeper  and  philosophical  meaning  of 
truth  can  be  partially  traced  even  in  the  ordinary  usage  of  lan- 
guage. Thus  we  speak  of  a  true  friend;  by  which  we  mean  a 
friend  whose  manner  of  conduct  accords  with  the  notion  of 
friendship.  In  the  same  way  we  speak  of  a  true  work  of  Art. 
Untrue  in  this  sense  means  the  same  as  bad,  or  self-discordant. 
In  this  sense  a  bad  state  is  an  untrue  state ;  and  evil  and  untruth 
may  be  said  to  consist  in  the  contradiction  subsisting  between 
the  function  or  notion  and  the  existence  of  the  object.  Of  such 
a  bad  object  we  may  form  a  correct  representation,  but  the 
import  of  such  representation  is  inherently  false.  Of  these  cor- 
rectnesses, which  are  at  the  same  time  untruths,  we  may  have 
many  in  our  heads.  —  God  alone  is  the  thorough  harmony  of 
notion  and  reality.  All  finite  things  involve  an  untruth:  they 
have  a  notion  and  an  existence,  but  their  existence  does  not 
meet  the  requirements  of  the  notion.  For  this  reason  they  must 
perish,  and  then  the  incompatibility  between  their  notion  and 
their  existence  becomes  manifest.  It  is  in  the  kind  that  the 


578  HEGEL 

individual  animal  has  its  notion:  and  the  kind  liberates  itself 
from  this  individuality  by  death. 

The  study  of  truth,  or  as  it  is  here  explained  to  mean,  con- 
sistency, constitutes  the  proper  problem  of  logic.  In  our  every- 
day mind  we  are  never  troubled  with  questions  about  the  truth 
of  the  forms  of  thought.  —  We  may  also  express  the  problem  of 
logic  by  saying  that  it  examines  the  forms  of  thought  touching 
their  capability  to  hold  truth.  And  the  question  comes  to  this : 
What  are  the  forms  of  the  infinite,  and  what  are  the  forms  of 
the  finite  ?  Usually  no  suspicion  attaches  to  the  finite  forms  of 
thought ;  they  are  allowed  to  pass  unquestioned.  But  it  is  from 
conforming  to  finite  categories  in  thought  and  action  that  all 
deception  originates. 


CHAPTER   VI.      LOGIC  FURTHER  DEFINED  AND 

DIVIDED 

79.  In  point    of   form  Logical    doctrine    has    three    sides: 
(a)  the  Abstract  side,  or  that  of  understanding ;  (ft)  the  Dialecti- 
cal, or  that  of  negative  reason :  (y)  the  Speculative,  or  that  of 
positive  reason. 

These  three  sides  do  not  make  three  parts  of  logic,  but  are 
stages  or  " moments"  in  every  logical  entity,  that  is,  of  every 
notion  and  truth  whatever.  They  may  all  be  put  under  the  first 
stage,  that  of  understanding,  and  so  kept  isolated  from  each 
other;  but  this  would  give  an  inadequate  conception  of  them.  — 
The  statement  of  the  dividing  lines  and  the  characteristic  aspects 
of  logic  is  at  this  point  no  more  than  historical  and  anticipatory. 

80.  (a)  Thought,  as  Understanding,  sticks  to  fixity  of  charac- 
ters and  their  distinctness  from  one  another :  every  such  limited 
abstract  it  treats  as  having  a  subsistence  and  being  of  its  own. 

In  our  ordinary  usage  of  the  term  thought  and  even  notion, 
we  often  have  before  our  eyes  nothing  more  than  the  operation 
of  Understanding.  And  no  doubt  thought  is  primarily  an  exer- 
cise of  Understanding :  —  only  it  goes  further,  and  the  notion 
is  not  a  function  of  Understanding  merely.  The  action  of  Under- 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  579 

standing  may  be  in  general  described  as  investing  its  subject- 
matter  with  the  form  of  universality.  But  this  universal  is  an 
abstract  universal :  that  is  to  say,  its  opposition  to  the  particular 
is  so  rigorously  maintained,  that  it  is  at  the  same  time  also  re- 
duced to  the  character  of  a  particular  again.  In  this  separating 
and  abstracting  attitude  towards  its  objects,  Understanding  is 
the  reverse  of  immediate  perception  and  sensation,  which,  as 
such,  keep  completely  to  their  native  sphere  of  action  in  the 
concrete. 

It  is  by  referring  to  this  opposition  of  Understanding  to  sen- 
sation or  feeling  that  we  must  explain  the  frequent  attacks 
made  upon  thought  for  being  hard  and  narrow,  and  for  leading, 
if  consistently  developed,  to  ruinous  and  pernicious  results. 
The  answer  to  these  charges,  in  so  far  as  they  are  warranted 
by  their  facts,  is,  that  they  do  not  touch  thinking  in  general, 
certainly  not  the  thinking  of  Reason,  but  only  the  exercise  of 
Understanding.  It  must  be  added  however,  that  the  merit  and 
rights  of  the  mere  Understanding  should  unhesitatingly  be  ad- 
mitted. And  that  merit  lies  in  the  fact,  that  apart  from  Under- 
standing there  is  no  fixity  or  accuracy  in  the  region  either  of 
theory  or  of  practice. 

81.  (/2)  In  the  Dialectical  stage  these  finite  characterisations 
or  formulae  supersede  themselves,  and  pass  into  their  opposites. 

(I)  But  when  the  Dialectical  principle  is  employed  by  the  un- 
derstanding separately  and  independently,  —  especially  as  seen 
in  its  application  to  philosophical  theories,  Dialectic  becomes 
Scepticism;  in  which  the  result  that  ensues  from  its  action  is 
presented  as  a  mere  negation. 

(II)  It  is  customary  to  treat  Dialectic  as  an  adventitious  art, 
which  for  very  wantonness  introduces  confusion  and  a  mere 
semblance  of  contradiction  into  definite  notions.    And  in  that 
light,  the  semblance  is  the  nonentity,  while  the  true  reality  is 
supposed   to   belong  to  the   original   dicta  of  understanding. 
Often,  indeed,  Dialectic  is  nothing  more  than  a  subjective  see- 
saw of  arguments  pro  and  con,  where  the  absence  of  sterling 
thought  is  disguised  by  the  subtlety  which  gives  birth  to  such 


580  HEGEL 

arguments.  But  in  its  true  and  proper  character,  Dialectic  is  the 
very  nature  and  essence  of  everything  predicated  by  mere  under- 
standing, —  the  law  of  things  and  of  the  finite  as  a  whole. 
Dialectic  is  different  from  "  Reflection."  In  the  first  instance, 
Reflection  is  that  movement  out  beyond  the  isolated  predicate 
of  a  thing  which  gives  it  some  reference,  and  brings  out  its 
relativity,  while  still  in  other  respects  leaving  it  its  isolated 
validity.  But  by  Dialectic  is  meant  the  in- dwelling  tendency 
outwards  by  which  the  one-sidedness  and  limitation  of  the 
predicates  of  understanding  is  seen  in  its  true  light,  and  shown 
to  be  the  negation  of  them.  For  anything  to  be  finite  is  just 
to  suppress  itself  and  put  itself  aside.  Thus  understood  the 
Dialectical  principle  constitutes  the  life  and  soul  of  scientific 
progress,  the  dynamic  which  alone  gives  immanent  connexion 
and  necessity  to  the  body  of  science;  and,  in  a  word,  is  seen 
to  constitute  the  real  and  true,  as  opposed  to  the  external,  exal- 
tation above  the  finite. 

(i)  .  .  .  Dialectic,  it  may  be  added,  is  no  novelty  in  philo- 
sophy. Among  the  ancients  Plato  is  termed  the  inventor  of 
Dialectic ;  and  his  right  to  the  name  rests  on  the  fact,  that  the 
Platonic  philosophy  first  gave  the  free  scientific,  and  thus  at 
the  same  time  the  objective,  form  to  Dialectic.  Socrates,  as  we 
should  expect  from  the  general  character  of  his  philosophising, 
has  the  dialectical  element  in  a  predominantly  subjective  shape, 
that  of  Irony.  He  used  to  turn  his  Dialectic,  first  against  ordi- 
nary consciousness,  and  then  especially  against  the  Sophists.  In 
his  conversations  he  used  to  simulate  the  wish  for  some  clearer 
knowledge  about  the  subject  under  discussion,  and  after  putting 
all  sorts  of  questions  with  that  intent,  he  drew  on  those  with 
whom  he  conversed  to  the  opposite  of  what  their  first  impres- 
sions had  pronounced  correct.  If,  for  instance,  the  Sophists 
claimed  to  be  teachers,  Socrates  by  a  series  of  questions  forced 
the  Sophist  Protagoras  to  confess  that  all  learning  is  only  recol- 
lection. In  his  more  strictly  scientific  dialogues  Plato  employs 
the  dialectical  method  to  show  the  finitude  of  all  hard  and  fast 
terms  of  understanding.  Thus  in  the  Parmenides  he  deduces 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  581 

the  many  from  the  one,  and  shows  nevertheless  that  the  many 
cannot  but  define  itself  as  the  one.  In  this  grand  style  did  Plato 
treat  Dialectic.  In  modern  times  it  was,  more  than  any  other, 
Kant  who  resuscitated  the  name  of  Dialectic,  and  restored  it  to 
its  post  of  honour.  He  did  it,  as  we  have  seen  (§  48),  by  .working 
out  the  Antinomies  of  the  reason.  The  problem  of  these  Anti- 
nomies is  no  mere  subjective  piece  of  work  oscillating  between 
one  set  of  grounds  and  another;  it  really  serves  to  show  that 
every  abstract  proposition  of  understanding,  taken  precisely  as 
it  is  given,  naturally  veers  round  into  its  opposite. 

82.  (y)  The  Speculative  stage,  or  stage  of  Positive  Reason, 
apprehends  the  unity  of  terms  (propositions)  hi  their  opposition, 
-  the  affirmative,  which  is  involved  in  their  disintegration  and 
in  their  transition. 

(i)  The  result  of  Dialectic  is  positive,  because  it  has  a  definite 
content,  or  because  its  result  is  not  empty  and  abstract  nothing, 
but  the  negation  of  certain  specific  propositions  which  are  con- 
tained in  the  result,  —  for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  a  resultant 
and  not  an  immediate  nothing.  (2)  It  follows  from  this  that 
the  "reason"  result,  though  it  be  only  a  thought  and  abstract,  is 
still  a  concrete,  being  not  a  plain  formal  unity,  but  a  unity  of 
distinct  propositions.  Bare  abstractions  or  formal  thoughts  are 
therefore  no  business  of  philosophy,  which  has  to  deal  only  with 
concrete  thoughts.  (3)  The  logic  of  mere  Understanding  is 
involved  in  Speculative  logic,  and  can  at  will  be  elicited  from 
it,  by  the  simple  process  of  omitting  the  dialectical  and  "reason- 
able" element.  When  that  is  done,  it  becomes  what  the  common 
logic  is,  a  descriptive  collection  of  sundry  thought-forms  and 
rules  which,  finite  though  they  are,  are  taken  to  be  something 
infinite. 

If  we  consider  only  what  it  contains,  and  not  how  it  contains 
it,  the  true  reason- world,  so  far  from  being  the  exclusive  property 
of  philosophy,  is  the  right  of  every  human  being,  on  whatever 
grade  of  culture  or  mental  growth  he  may  stand;  which  would 
justify  man's  ancient  title  of  rational  being.  The  general  mode 
by  which  experience  first  makes  us  aware  of  the  reasonable- 


582  HEGEL 

order  of  things  is  by  accepted  and  unreasoned  belief;  and  the 
character  of  the  rational,  as  already  noted  (§  45),  is  to  be  uncon- 
ditioned, and  thus  to  be  self-contained,  self-determining.  In 
this  sense  man  above  all  things  becomes  aware  of  the  reasonable 
order,  when  he  knows  of  God,  and  knows  him  to  be  the  com- 
pletely self-determined.  Similarly,  the  consciousness  a  citizen 
has  of  his  country  and  its  laws  is  a  perception  of  the  reason- 
world,  so  long  as  he  looks  up  to  them  as  unconditioned  and 
likewise  universal  powers,  to  which  he  must  subject  his  individ- 
ual will.  And  in  the  same  sense,  the  knowledge  and  will  of  the 
child  is  rational,  when  he  knows  his  parents'  will,  and  wills  it. 

Now,  to  turn  these  rational  (of  course  positively-rational) 
realities  into  speculative  principles,  the  only  thing  needed  is 
that  they  be  thought.  The  expression  "Speculation"  in  com- 
mon life  is  often  used  with  a  very  vague  and  at  the  same  tune 
secondary  sense,  as  when  we  speak  of  a  matrimonial  or  a  com- 
mercial speculation.  By  this  we  only  mean  two  things:  first, 
that  what  is  immediately  at  hand  has  to  be  passed  and  left  be- 
hind ;  and  secondly,  that  the  subject-matter  of  such  speculations, 
though  in  the  first  place  only  subjective,  must  not  remain  so,  but 
be  realised  or  translated  into  objectivity. 

83.  Logic  is  subdivided  into  three  parts :  — 

I.  The  Doctrine  of  Being: 

II.  The  Doctrine  of  Essence : 

III.  The  Doctrine  of  Notion  and  Idea. 
That  is,  into  the  Theory  of  Thought : 

I.  In  its  immediacy :  the  notion  implicit  and  in  germ. 

II.  In  its  reflection  and  mediation:  the  being-for-self  and 
show  of  the  notion. 

III.  In  its  return  into  itself,  and  its  developed  abiding  by 
itself:  the  notion  in  and  for  itself. 

The  division  of  Logic  now  given,  as  well  as  the  whole  of  the 
previous  discussion  on  the  nature  of  thought,  is  anticipatory: 
and  the  justification,  or  proof  of  it,  can  only  result  from  the 
detailed  treatment  of  thought  itself.  For  in  philosophy,  to  prove 
means  to  show  how  the  subject  by  and  from  itself  makes  itself 
what  it  is.  The  relation  hi  which  these  three  leading  grades  of 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  583 

thought,  or  of  the  logical  Idea,  stand  to  each  other  must  be 
conceived  as  follows.  Truth  comes  only  with  the  notion:  or, 
more  precisely,  the  notion  is  the  truth  of  being  and  essence,  both 
of  which,  when  separately  maintained  in  their  isolation,  cannot 
but  be  untrue,  the  former  because  it  is  exclusively  immediate, 
and  the  latter  because  it  is  exclusively  mediate.  Why  then,  it 
may  be  asked,  begin  with  the  false  and  not  at  once  with  the  true  ? 
To  which  we  answer  that  truth,  to  deserve  the  name,  must 
authenticate  its  own  truth:  which  authentication,  here  within 
the  sphere  of  logic,  is  given  when  the  notion  demonstrates  itself 
to  be  what  is  mediated  by  and  with  itself,  and  thus  at  the  same 
time  to  be  truly  immediate.  This  relation  between  the  three 
stages  of  the  logical  Idea  appears  in  a  real  and  concrete  shape 
thus :  God,  who  is  the  truth,  is  known  by  us  in  his  truth,  that  is, 
as  absolute  spirit,  only  in  so  far  as  we  at  the  same  time  recognise 
that  the  world  which  He  created,  nature  and  the  finite  spirit,  are, 
in  their  difference  from  God,  untrue. 

CHAPTER  VII.     THE    DOCTRINE    OF    BEING 

84.  Being  is  the  notion  implicit  only :  its  special  forms  have  the 
predicate  "is";  when  they  are  distinguished  they  are  each  of 
them  an  "other" :  and  the  shape  which  dialectic  takes  in  them, 
i.  e.  their  further  specialisation,  is  a  passing  over  into  another. 
This  further  determination,  or  specialisation,  is  at  once  a  forth- 
putting  and  in  that  way  a  disengaging  of  the  notion  implicit  in 
being;  and  at  the  same  time  the  withdrawing  of  being  inwards, 
its  sinking  deeper  into  itself.  Thus  the  explication  of  the  notion 
in  the  sphere  of  being  does  two  things :  it  brings  out  the  totality 
of  being,  and  it  abolishes  the  immediacy  of  being,  or  the  form  of 
being  as  such. 

A.   QUALITY 

(a)  Being. 

86.  Pure  BEING  makes  the  beginning :  because  it  is  on  one 
hand  pure  thought,  and  on  the  other  immediacy  itself,  simple 


584  HEGEL 

and  indeterminate ;  and  the  first  beginning  cannot  be  mediated 
by  anything,  or  be  further  determined. 

All  doubts  and  admonitions,  which  might  be  brought  against 
beginning  the  science  with  abstract  empty  being,  will  disappear, 
if  we  only  perceive  what  a  beginning  naturally  implies.  It  is 
possible  to  define  being  as  "1=1,"  "Absolute  Indifference"  or 
Identity,  and  so  on.  Where  it  is  felt  necessary  to  begin  either 
with  what  is  absolutely  certain,  i.  e.  the  certainty  of  one's  self, 
or  with  a  definition  or  intuition  of  the  absolute  truth,  these  and 
other  forms  of  the  kind  may  be  looked  on  as  if  they  must  be  the 
first.  But  each  of  these  forms  contains  a  mediation,  and  hence 
cannot  be  the  real  first :  for  all  mediation  implies  advance  made 
from  a  first  on  to  a  second,  and  proceeding  from  something 
different.  If  1=1,  or  even  the  intellectual  intuition,  are  really 
taken  to  mean  no  more  than  the  first,  they  are  in  this  mere  im- 
mediacy identical  with  being:  while  conversely,  pure  being,  if 
abstract  no  longer,  but  including  in  it  mediation,  is  pure  thought 
or  intuition. 

If  we  enunciate  Being  as  a  predicate  of  the  Absolute,  we  get  the 
first  definition  of  the  latter.  The  Absolute  is  Being.  This  is  (in 
thought)  the  absolutely  initial  definition,  the  most  abstract  and 
stinted.  It  is  the  definition  given  by  the  Eleatics,  but  at  the  same 
time  is  also  the  well-known  definition  of  God  as  the  sum  of  all 
realities.  It  means,  in  short,  that  we  are  to  set  aside  that  limitation 
which  is  in  every  reality,  so  that  God  shall  be  only  the  real  in  all 
reality,  the  superlatively  real. 

(2)  ...  It  is  sufficient  to  mention  here,  that  logic  begins  where 
the  proper  history  of  philosophy  begins.  Philosophy  began  in 
the  Eleatic  school,  especially  with  Parmenides.  Parmenides,  who 
conceives  the  absolute  as  Being,  says  that  "Being  alone  is  and 
nothing  is  not."  Such  was  the  true  starting-point  of  philosophy, 
which  is  always  knowledge  by  thought :  and  here  for  the  first 
Jime  we  find  pure-thought  seized  and  made  an  object  to  itself. 

Men  indeed  thought  'from  the  beginning  (for  thus  only  were 
they  distinguished  from  the  animals).  But  thousands  of  years 
had  to  elapse  before  they  came  to  apprehend  thought  in  its 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  585 

purity,  and  to  see  in  it  the  truly  objective.  The  Eleatics  are 
celebrated  as  daring  thinkers.  But  this  nominal  admiration  is 
often  accompanied  by  the  remark  that  they  went  too  far,  when 
they  made  Being  alone  true,  and  denied  the  truth  of  every  other 
object  of  consciousness.  We  must  go  further  than  mere  Being, 
it  is  true :  and  yet  it  is  absurd  to  speak  of  the  other  contents  of  our 
consciousness  as  somewhat  as  it  were  outside  and  beside  Being, 
or  to  say  that  there  are  other  things,  as  well  as  Being.  The  true 
state  of  the  case  is  rather  as  follows.  Being,  as  Being,  is  nothing 
fixed  or  ultimate :  it  yields  to  dialectic  and  sinks  into  its  opposite, 
which,  also  taken  immediately,  is  Nothing.  After  all,  the  point 
is,  that  Being  is  the  first  pure  Thought ;  whatever  else  you  may 
begin  with  (the  1=1,  the  absolute  indifference,  or  God  himself), 
you  begin  with  a  figure  of  materialised  conception,  not  a  product 
of  thought ;  and  that,  so  far  as  its  thought-content  is  concerned, 
such  beginning  is  merely  Being. 

87.  But  this  mere  Being,  as  it  is  mere  abstraction,  is  therefore 
the  absolutely  negative :  which,  in  a  similarly  immediate  aspect, 
is  just  NOTHING. 

(i)  Hence  was  derived  the  second  definition  of  the  Absolute; 
the  Absolute  is  the  Nought.  In  fact  this  definition  is  implied  in 
saying  that  the  thing-in-itself  is  the  indeterminate,  utterly  with- 
out form  and  so  without  content,  —  or  in  saying  that  God  is  only 
the  supreme  Being  and  nothing  more ;  for  this  is  really  declaring 
him  to  be  the  same  negativity  as  above.  The  Nothing  which  the 
Buddhists  make  the  universal  principle,  as  well  as  the  final  aim 
and  goal  of  everything,  is  the  same  abstraction. 

The  distinction  between  Being  and  Nought  is,  in  the  first 
place,  only  implicit,  arid  not  yet  actually  made :  they  only 
ought  to  be  distinguished.  A  distinction  of  course  implies  two 
things,  and  that  one  of  them  possesses  an  attribute  which  is  not 
found  in  the  other.  Being  however  is  an  absolute  absence  of 
attributes,  and  so  is  Nought.  Hence  the  distinction  between 
the  two  is  only  meant  to  be;  it  is  a  quite  nominal  distinction, 
which  is  at  the  same  time  no  distinction.  In  all  other  cases  of 
difference  there  is  some  common  point  which  comprehends  both 


586  HEGEL 

things.  Suppose  e.  g.  we  speak  of  two  different  species:  the 
genus  forms  a  common  ground  for  both.  Both  in  the  case  of 
mere  Being  and  Nothing,  distinction  is  without  a  bottom  to 
stand  upon :  hence  there  can  be  no  distinction,  both  determina- 
tions being  the  same  bottomlessness.  If  it  be  replied  that  Being 
and  Nothing  are  both  of  them  thoughts,  so  that  thought  may  be 
reckoned  common  ground,  the  objector  forgets  that  Being  is  not 
a  particular  or  definite  thought,  and  hence,  being  quite  inde- 
terminate, is  a  thought  not  to  be  distinguished  from  Nothing.  — 
It  is  natural  too  for  us  to  represent  Being  as  absolute  riches,  and 
Nothing  as  absolute  poverty.  But  if  when  we  view  the  whole 
world  we  can  only  say  that  everything  is,  and  nothing  more,  we 
are  neglecting  all  speciality  and,  instead  of  absolute  plenitude, 
.we  have  absolute  emptiness.  The  same  stricture  is  applicable 
to  those  who  define  God  to  be  mere  Being;  a  definition  not  a 
whit  better  than  that  of  the  Buddhists,  who  make  God  to  be 
Nought,  and  who  from  that  principle  draw  the  further  conclusion 
that  self-annihilation  is  the  means  by  which  man  becomes  God. 
88.  Nothing,  if  it  be  thus  immediate  and  equal  to  itself,  is 
also  conversely  the  same  as  Being  is.  The  truth  of  Being  and  of 
Nothing  is  accordingly  the  unity  of  the  two:  and  this  unity  is 
BECOMING. 

(3)  It  may  perhaps  be  said  that  nobody  can  form  a  notion 
of  the  unity  of  Being  and  Nought.  As  for  that,  the  notion  of  the 
unity  is  stated  in  the  sections  preceding,  and  that  is  all :  appre- 
hend that,  and  you  have  comprehended  this  unity.  What  the 
objector  really  means  by  comprehension  —  by  a  notion  —  is , 
more  than  his  language  properly  implies :  he  wants  a  richer  and 
more  complex  state  of  mind,  a  pictorial  conception  which  will 
propound  the  notion  as  a  concrete  case  and  one  more  familiar 
to  the  ordinary  operations  of  thought.  And  so  long  as  incom- 
prehensibility means  only  the  want  of  habituation  for  the  effort 
needed  to  grasp  and  abstract  thought,  free  from  all  sensuous 
admixture,  and  to  seize  a  speculative  truth,  the  reply  to  the 
criticism  is,  that  philosophical  knowledge  is  undoubtedly  distinct 
in  kind  from  the  mode  of  knowledge  best  known  in  common 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  587 

life,  as  well  as  from  that  which  reigns  in  the  other  sciences.  But 
if  to  have  no  notion  merely  means  that  we  cannot  represent  in 
imagination  the  oneness  of  Being  and  Nought,  the  statement  is 
far  from  being  true ;  for  every  one  has  countless  ways  of  envis- 
aging this  unity.  To  say  that  we  have  no  such  conception  can 
only  mean,  that  in  none  of  these  images  do  we  recognise  the  no- 
tion in  question,  and  that  we  are  not  aware  that  they  exemplify  it. 
The  readiest  example  of  it  is  Becoming.  Every  one  has  a  mental 
idea  of  Becoming,  and  will  even  allow  that  it  is  one  idea :  he  will 
further  allow  that,  when  it  is  analysed,  it  involves  the  attribute 
of  Being,  and  also  what  is  the  very  reverse  of  Being,  viz.  Nothing  : 
and  that  these  two  attributes  lie  undivided  in  the  one  idea :  so  that 
Becoming  is  the  unity  of  Being  and  Nothing.  —  Another  toler- 
ably plain  example  is  a  Beginning.  In  its  beginning,  the  thing  is 
not  yet,  but  it  is  more  than  merely  nothing,  for  its  Being  is  already 
in  the  Beginning.  Beginning  is  itself  a  case  of  Becoming;  only 
the  former  term  is  employed  with  an  eye  to  the  further  advance. 
—  If  we  were  to  adapt  logic  to  the  more  usual  method  of  the 
sciences,  we  might  start  with  the  representation  of  a  Beginning 
as  abstractly  thought,  or  with  Beginning  as  such,  and  then 
analyse  this  representation ;  and  perhaps  people  would  more 
readily  admit,  as  a  result  of  this  analysis,  that  Being  and  Nothing 
present  themselves  as  undivided  in  unity. 

As  the  first  concrete  thought-term,  Becoming  is  the  first  ade- 
quate vehicle  of  truth.  In  the  history  of  philosophy,  this  stage 
of  the  logical  Idea  finds  its  analogue  in  the  system  of  Heraclitus. 
When  Heraclitus  says,  All  is  flowing  (Travra  pet),  he  enunciates 
Becoming  as  the  fundamental  feature  of  all  existence,  whereas 
the  Eleatics,  as  already  remarked,  saw  the  only  truth  in  Being, 
rigid  processless  Being.  Glancing  at  the  principle  of  the  Eleatics, 
Heraclitus  then  goes  on  to  say :  Being  no  more  is  than  not-Being 
(ovSev  /xaAAoi/  TO  ov  rov  JJLT]  ovros  ecrrc) :  a  statement  expressing  the 
negativity  of  abstract  Being,  and  its  identity  with  not-Being, 
as  made  explicit  in  Becoming:  both  abstractions  being  alike 
untenable.  This  may  be  looked  at  as  an  instance  of  the  real 
refutation  of  one  system  by  another.  To  refute  a  philosophy  is 


588  HEGEL 

to  exhibit  the  dialectical  movement  in  its  principle,  and  thus 
reduce  it  to  a  constituent  member  of  a  higher  concrete  form  of 
the  Idea.  Even  Becoming  however,  taken  at  its  best  on  its  own 
ground,  is  an  extremely  poor  term:  it  needs  to  grow  in  depth 
and  weight  of  meaning.  Such  deepened  force  we  find  e.  g.  in 
Life.  Life  is  a  Becoming ;  but  that  is  not  enough  to  exhaust  the 
notion  of  life.  A  still  higher  form  is  found  in  Mind.  Here  too 
is  Becoming,  but  richer  and  more  intensive  than  mere  logical 
Becoming.  The  elements,  whose  unity  constitutes  mind,  are  not 
the  bare  abstracts  of  Being  and  of  Nought,  but  the  system  of 
the  logical  Idea  and  of  Nature. 

B.    QUANTITY 

(a)  Pure  Quantity. 

99.  QUANTITY  is  pure  being,  where  the  mode  or  character  is 
no  longer  taken  as  one  with  the  being  itself,  but  explicitly  put 
as  superseded  or  indifferent. 

Quantity,  of  course,  is  a  stage  of  the  Idea :  and  as  such  it  must 
have  its  due,  first  as  a  logical  category,  and  then  in  the  world  of 
objects,  natural  as  well  as  spiritual.  Still  even  so,  there  soon 
emerges  the  different  importance  attaching  to  the  category  of 
quantity  according  as  its  objects  belong  to  the  natural  or  to  the 
spiritual  world.  For  in  Nature,  where  the  form  of  the  Idea  is 
to  be  other  than,  and  at  the  same  time  outside,  itself,  greater 
importance  is  for  that  very  reason  attached  to  quantity  than  in 
the  spiritual  world,  the  world  of  free  inwardness.  No  doubt  we 
regard  even  spiritual  facts  under  a  quantitative  point  of  view; 
but  it  is  at  once  apparent  that  in  speaking  of  God  as  a  Trinity, 
the  number  three  has  by  no  means  the  same  prominence,  as  when 
we  consider  the  three  dimensions  of  space  or  the  three  sides  of  a 
triangle ;  —  the  fundamental  feature  of  which  last  is  just  to  be  a 
surface  bounded  by  three  lines.  Even  inside  the  realm  of  Nature 
we  find  the  same  distinction  of  greater  or  less  importance  of 
quantitative  features.  In  the  inorganic  world,  Quantity  plays, 
so  to  say,  a  more  prominent  part  than  in  the  organic.  Even  in 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  589 

organic  nature  when  we  distinguish  mechanical  functions  from 
what  are  called  chemical,  and  in  the  narrower  sense,  physical, 
there  is  the  same  difference.  Mechanics  is  of  all  branches  of 
science,  confessedly,  that  in  which  the  aid  of  mathematics  can 
be  least  dispensed  with,  —  where  indeed  we  cannot  take  one 
step  without  them.  On  that  account  mechanics  is  regarded  next 
to  mathematics  as  the  science  par  excellence ;  which  leads  us  to 
repeat  the  remark  about  the  coincidence  of  the  materialist  with 
the  exclusively  mathematical  point  of  view.  After  all  that  has 
been  said,  we  cannot  but  hold  it,  in  the  interest  of  exact  and 
thorough  knowledge,  one  of  the  most  hurtful  prejudices,  to  seek 
all  distinction  and  determinateness  of  objects  merely  in  quantita- 
tive considerations.  Mind  to  be  sure  is  more  than  Nature  and 
the  animal  is  more  than  the  plant :  but  we  know  very  little  of 
these  objects  and  the  distinction  between  them,  if  a  more  and 
less  is  enough  for  us,  and  if  we  do  not  proceed  to  comprehend 
them  in  their  peculiar,  that  is  their  qualitative  character. 


(b)  Quantum  (How  Much). 

101.  Quantity,  essentially  invested  with  the  exclusionist 
character  which  it  involves,  is  QUANTUM  (or  How  Much) :  i.  e. 
limited  quantity. 

Quantum  is,  as  it  were,  the  determinate  Being  of  quantity: 
whereas  mere  quantity  corresponds  to  abstract  Being,  and  the 
Degree,  which  is  next  to  be  considered,  corresponds  to  Being- 
for-self.  As  for  the  details  of  the  advance  from  mere  quantity 
to  quantum,  it  is  founded  on  this :  that  whilst  in  mere  quantity 
the  distinction,  as  a  distinction  of  continuity  and  discreteness,  is 
at  first  only  implicit,  in  a  quantum  'the  distinction  is  actually 
made,  so  that  quantity  in  general  now  appears  as  distinguished 
or  limited.  But  in  this  way  the  quantum  breaks  up  at  the  same 
tune  into  an  indefinite  multitude  of  Quanta  or  definite  magni- 
tudes. Each  of  these  definite  magnitudes,  as  distinguished  from 
the  others,  forms  a  unity,  while  on  the  other  hand,  viewed  per  se, 
it  is  a  many.  And,  when  that  is  done,  the  quantum  is  described 
as  Number. 


590  HEGEL 

(c)  Degree. 

103.  The  limit  (in  a  quantum)  is  identical  with  the  whole  of 
the  quantum  itself.   As  in  itselj  multiple,  the  limit  is  Exten- 
sive magnitude;  as  in  itself  simple  determinateness  (qualitative 
simplicity),  it  is  Intensive  magnitude  or  DEGREE. 

104.  In  Degree  the  notion  of  quantum  is  explicitly  put.   It  is 
magnitude  as  indifferent  on  its  own  account  and  simple :  but  in 
such  a  way  that  the  character  (or  modal  being)  which  makes 
it  a  quantum  lies  quite  outside  it  in  other  magnitudes.   In  this 
contradiction,  where  the  independent  indifferent  limit  is  absolute 
externality,  the  INFINITE  QUANTITATIVE  PROGRESSION  is  made 
explicit  —  an  immediacy  which  immediately  veers  round  into 
its  counterpart,  into  mediation  (the  passing  beyond  and  over 
the  quantum  just  laid  down),  and  vice  versa. 

Number  is  a  thought,  but  thought  in  its  complete  self-exter- 
nalisation.  Because  it  is  a  thought,  it  does  not  belong  to  per- 
ception: but  it  is  a  thought  which  is  characterised  by  the  ex- 
ternality of  perception.  —  Not  only  therefore  may  the  quantum 
be  increased  or  diminished  without  end:  the  very  notion  of 
quantum  is  thus  to  push  out  and  out  beyond  itself.  The  infinite 
quantitative  progression  is  only  the  meaningless  repetition  of 
one  and  the  same  contradiction,  which  attaches  to  the  quantum, 
both  generally  and,  when  explicitly  invested  with  its  special 
character,  as  degree.  Touching  the  futility  of  enunciating  this 
contradiction  in  the  form  of  infinite  progression,  Zeno,  as  quoted 
by  Aristotle,  rightly  says,  "It  is  the  same  to  say  a  thing  once, 
and  to  say  it  for  ever." 

(i)  If  we  follow  the  usual  definition  of  the  mathematicians, 
given  in  §  99,  and  say  that  magnitude  is  what  can  be  increased 
or  diminished,  there  may  be  nothing  to  urge  against  the  correct- 
ness of  the  perception  on  which  it  is  founded ;  but  the  question 
remains,  how  we  come  to  assume  such  a  capacity  of  increase  or 
diminution.  If  we  simply  appeal  for  an  answer  to  experience,  we 
try  an  unsatisfactory  course;  because  apart  from  the  fact  that 
we  should  merely  have  a  material  image  of  magnitude,  and  not 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  591 

the  thought  of  it,  magnitude  would  come  out  as  a  bare  possi- 
bility (of  increasing  or  diminishing)  and  we  should  have  ho 
key  to  the  necessity  for  its  exhibiting  this  behaviour.  In  the  way 
of  our  logical  evolution,  on  the  contrary,  quantity  is  obviously  a 
grade  in  the  process  of  self -determining  thought';  and  it  has 
been  shown  that  it  lies  in  the  very  notion  of  quantity  to  shoot 
out  beyond  itself.  In  that  way,  the  increase  or  diminution  (of 
which  we  have  heard)  is  not  merely  possible,  but  necessary. 

(2)  The  quantitative  infinite  progression  is  what  the  reflective 
understanding  usually  relies  upon  when  it  is  engaged  with  the 
general  question  of  Infinity.  The  same  thing  however  holds 
good  of  this  progression,  as  was  already  remarked  on  the  occasion 
of  the  qualitatively  infinite  progression.  As  was  then  said,  it  is 
not  the  expression  of  a  true,  but  of  a  wrong  infinity ;  it  never  gets 
further  than  a  bare  "ought,"  and  thus  really  remains  within  the 
limits  of  finitude.  The  quantitative  form  of  this  infinite  pro- 
gression, which  Spinoza  rightly  calls  a  mere  imaginary  infinity 
(infinitum  imagination/is),  is  an  image  often  employed  by  poets, 
such  as  Haller  and  Klopstock,  to  depict  the  infinity,  not  of 
Nature  merely,  but  even  of  God  himself.  Thus  we  find  Haller, 
in  a  famous  description  of  God's  infinity,  saying:  — 

Ich  haufe  ungeheure  Zahlen, 

Gebirge  Millionen  auf, 

Ich  setze  Zeit  auf  Zeit 

Und  Welt  auf  Welt  zu  Hauf, 

Und  wenn  ich  von  der  grausen  Hoh* 

Mit  Schwindel  wieder  nach  Dir  seh: 

1st  alle  Macht  der  Zahl, 

Vermehrt  zu  Tausendmal, 

Noch  nicht  ein  Theil  von  Dir.1 

Here  then  we  meet,  in  the  first  place,  that  continual  extrusion 
of  quantity,  and  especially  of  number,  beyond  itself,  which 
Kant  describes  as  "eery."  The  only  really  "eery"  thing  about 
it  is  the  wearisomeness  of  ever  fixing,  and  anon  unfixing  a  limit, 

1  I  heap  up  monstrous  numbers,  mountains  of  millions;  I  pile  time  upon  time, 
and  world  on  the  top  of  world;  and  when  from  the  awful  height  I  cast  a  dizzy 
look  towards  Thee,  all  the  power  of  number,  multiplied  a  thousand  times,  is  not 
yet  one  part  of  Thee. 


592  HEGEL 

without  advancing  a  single  step.  The  same  poet,  however,  well 
adds  to  that  description  of  false  infinity  the  closing  line :  — 

Ich  zieh  sie  ab,  und  Du  liegst  ganz  vor  mir.1 

Which  means,  that  the  true  infinite  is  more  than  a  mere  world 
beyond  the  finite,  and  that  we,  in  order  to  become  conscious 
of  it,  must  renounce  that  progressus  in  infinitum. 

C.  MEASURE 

107.  Measure  is  the  qualitative  quantum,  in  the  first  place 
as  immediate, —  a  quantum,  to  which  a  determinate  being  or 
a  quality  is  attached. 

Measure,  where  quality  and  quantity  are  in  one,  is  thus  the 
completion  of  Being.  Being,  as  we  first  apprehend  it,  is  some- 
thing utterly  abstract  and  characterless :  but  it  is  the  very  essence 
of  Being  to  characterise  itself,  and  its  complete  characterisation 
is  reached  in  Measure.  Measure,  like  the  other  stages  of  Being, 
may  serve  as  a  definition  of  the  Absolute :  God,  it  has  been  said, 
is  the  Measure  of  all  things.  It  is  this  idea  which  forms  the 
ground-note  of  many  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  hymns,  in  which 
the  glorification  of  God  tends  in  the  main  to  show  that  He  has 
appointed  to  everything  its  bound :  to  the  sea  and  the  solid  land, 
to  the  rivers  and  mountains;  and  also  to  the  various  kinds  of 
plants  and  animals.  To  the  religious  sense  of  the  Greeks  the 
divinity  of  measure,  especially  in  respect  of  social  ethics,  was  re- 
presented by  Nemesis.  That  conception  implies  a  general  theory 
that  all  human  things,  riches,  honour,  and  power,  as  well  as  joy 
and  pain,  have  their  definite  measure,  the  transgression  of  which 
brings  ruin  and  destruction. 


CHAPTER   VIII.      THE   DOCTRINE    OF    ESSENCE 

112.  The  terms  in  ESSENCE  are  always  mere  pairs  of  correla- 
tives, and  not  yet  absolutely  reflected  in  themselves:  hence  in 
essence  the  actual  unity  of  the  notion  is  not  realised,  but  only 

1  These  I  remove,  and  Thou  liest  all  before  me. 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  593 

postulated  by  reflection.  Essence,  —  which  is  Being  coming 
into  mediation  with  itself  through  the  negativity  of  itself  —  is 
self-relatedness,  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  relation  to  an  Other,  - 
this  Other  however  coming  to  view  at  first  not  as  something 
which  is,  but  as  postulated  and  hypothetised.  —  Being  has  not 
vanished :  but,  firstly,  Essence,  as  simple  self-relation,  is  Being, 
and  secondly,  as  regards  its  one-sided  characteristic  of  imme- 
diacy, Being  is  deposed  to  a  mere  negative,  to  a  seeming  or 
reflected  light  —  Essence  accordingly  is  Being  thus  reflecting 
light  into  itself.  / 

The  Absolute  is  the  Essence.  This  is  the  same  definition  as 
the  previous  one  that  the  Absolute  is  Being,  in  so  far  as  Being 
likewise  is  simple  self-relation.  But  it  is  at  the  same  time  higher, 
because  Essence  is  Being  that  has  gone  into  itself :  that  is  to  say, 
the  simple  self-relation  (in  Being)  is  expressly  put  as  negation 
of  the  negative,  as  immanent  self -mediation.  —  Unfortunately 
when  the  Absolute  is  denned  to  be  the  Essence,  the  negativity 
which  this  implies  is  often  taken  only  to  mean  the  withdrawal 
of  all  determinate  predicates.  This  negative  action  of  withdrawal 
or  abstraction  thus  falls  outside  of  the  Essence  —  which  is  thus 
left  as  a  mere  result  apart  from  its  premisses,  —  the  caput 
mortuum  of  abstraction.  But  as  this  negativity,  instead  of  being 
external  to  Being,  is  its  own  dialectic,  the  truth  of  the  latter, 
viz.  Essence,  will  be  Being  as  retired  within  itself,  —  immanent 
Being.  That  reflection,  or  light  thrown  into  itself,  constitutes 
the  distinction  between  Essence  and  immediate  Being,  and  is 
the  peculiar  characteristic  of  Essence  itself. 

Any  mention  of  Essence  implies  that  we  distinguish  it  from 
Being :  the  latter  is  immediate,  and,  compared  with  the  Essence, 
we  look  upon  it  as  mere  seeming.  But  this  seeming  is  not  an 
utter  nonentity  and  nothing  at  all,  but  Being  superseded  and 
put  by.  The  point  of  view  given  by  the  Essence  is  in  general 
the  standpoint  of  ''Reflection."  This  word  "reflection"  is  origi- 
nally applied,  when  a  ray  of  light  in  a  straight  line  impinging 
upon  the  surface  of  a  mirror  is  thrown  back  from  it.  In  this 
phenomenon  we  have  two  things,  —  first  an  immediate  fact 
which  is,  and  secondly  the  deputed,  derivated,  or  transmitted 


594  HEGEL 

phase  of  the  same.  —  Something  of  this  sort  takes  place  when 
we  reflect,  or  think  upon  an  object;  for  here  we  want  to  know 
the  object,  not  in  its  immediacy,  but  as  derivative  or  mediated. 
The 'problem  or  aim  of  philosophy  is  often  represented  as  the 
ascertainment  of  the  essence  of  things:  a  phrase  which  only 
means  that  things  instead  of  being  left  in  their  immediacy,  must 
be  shown  to  be  mediated  by,  or  based  upon,  something  else. 
The  immediate  Being  of  things  is  thus  conceived  under  the 
magic  of  a  rind  or  curtain  behind  which  the  Essence  lies  hidden. 


A.  ESSENCE  AS  GROUND  OF  EXISTENCE 
(a)  The  pure  principles  or  categories  of  Reflection. 

(a)     IDENTITY 

115.  The  Essence  lights  up  in  itself  or  is  mere  reflection: 
and  therefore  is  only  self-relation,  not  as  immediate  but  as  re- 
flected. And  that  reflex  relation  is  SELF-IDENTITY. 

This  Identity  becomes  an  Identity  in  form  only,  or  of  the 
understanding,  if  it  be  held  hard  and  fast,  quite  aloof  from 
difference.  Or,  rather,  abstraction  is  the  imposition  of  this 
Identity  of  form,  the  transformation  of  something  inherently 
concrete  into  this  form  of  elementary  simplicity.  And  this  may 
be  done  in  two  ways.  Either  we  may  neglect  a  part  of  the  mul- 
tiple features  which  are  found  in  the  concrete  thing  (by  what  is 
called  analysis)  and  select  only  one  of  them ;  or,  neglecting  their 
variety,  we  may  concentrate  the  multiple  characters  into  one. 

If  we  associate  Identity  with  the  Absolute,  making  the  Abso- 
lute the  subject  of  a  proposition,  we  get :  The  Absolute  is  what 
is  identical  with  itself.  However  true  this  proposition  may  be, 
it  is  doubtful  whether  it  be  meant  in  its  truth :  and  therefore  it 
is  at  least  imperfect  in  the  expression.  For  it  is  left  undecided, 
whether  it  means  the  abstract  Identity  of  understanding,  — 
abstract,  that  is,  because  contrasted  with  the  other  character- 
istics of  Essence,  or  the  Identity  which  is  inherently  concrete. 
In  the  latter  case,  as  will  be  seen,  true  Identity  is  first  discoverable 
in  the  Ground,  and,  with  a  higher  truth,  in  the  Notion. 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  595 

Identity  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  repetition  of  what  we  had 
earlier  as  Being,  but  as  become,  through  supersession  of  its  char- 
acter of  immediateness.  It  is  therefore  Being  as  Ideality. — It  is 
important  to  come  to  a  proper  understanding  on  the  true  mean- 
ing of  Identity :  and,  for  that  purpose,  we  must  especially  guard 
against  taking  it  as  abstract  Identity,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
Difference.  That  is  the  touch-stone  for  distinguishing  all  bad 
philosophy  from  what  alone  deserves  the  name  of  philosophy. 
Identity  in  its  truth,  as  an  Ideality  of  what  immediately  is,  is  a 
high  category  for  our  religious  modes  of  mind  as  well  as  all  other 
forms  of  thought  and  mental  activity.  The  true  knowledge  of 
God,  it  may  be  said,  begins  when  we  know  him  as  identity,  — 
as  absolute  identity.  To  know  so  much  is  to  see  that  all  the  power 
and  glory  of  the  world  sinks  into  nothing  in  God's  presence, 
and  subsists  only  as  the  reflection  of  His  power  and  His  glory. 
In  the  same  way,  Identity,  as  self-consciousness,  is  what  dis- 
tinguishes man  from  nature,  particularly  from  the  brutes  which 
never  reach  the  point  of  comprehending  tkemselves  as  "I," 
that  is,  pure  self-contained  unity.  So  again,  in  connexion  with 
thought,  the  main  thing  is  not  to  confuse  the  true  Identity,  which 
contains  Being  and  its  characteristics  ideally  transfigured  in  it, 
with  an  abstract  Identity,  identity  of  bare  form.  All  the  charges 
of  narrowness,  hardness,  meaninglessness,  which  are  so  often  di- 
rected against  thought  from  the  quarter  of  feeling  and  immediate 
perception,  rest  on  the  perverse  assumption  that  thought  acts 
only  as  a  faculty  of  abstract  Identification.  The  Formal  Logic 
itself  confirms  this  assumption  by  laying  down  the  supreme  law 
of  thought  (so-called)  which  has  been  discussed  above.  If  think- 
ing were  no  more  than  an  abstract  Identity,  we  could  not  but 
own  it  to  be  a  most  futile  and  tedious  business.  No  doubt  the 
notion,  and  the  idea  too,  are  identical  with  themselves ;  but  iden- 
tical only  in  so  far  as  they  at  the  same  time  involve  distinction. 

(£)    DIFFERENCE 

116.  Essence  is  mere  Identity  and  reflection  in  itself  only  as 
it  is  self-relating  negativity,  and  in  that  way  self-repulsion.  It 
contains  therefore  essentially  the  characteristic  of  DIFFERENCE. 


596  HEGEL 

Other-being  is  here  no  longer  qualitative,  taking  the  shape 
of  the  character  or  limit.  It  is  now  in  Essence,  in  self-relating 
essence,  and  therefore  the  negation  is  at  the  same  time  a  relation, 
—  is,  in  short,  Distinction,  Relativity,  Mediation. 

To  ask,  "How  Identity  comes  to  Difference,"  assumes  that 
Identity  as  mere  abstract  Identity  is  something  of  itself,  and 
Difference  also  something  else  equally  independent.  This  sup- 
position renders  an  answer  to  the  question  impossible.  If  Identity 
is  viewed  as  diverse  from  Difference,  all  that  we  have  in  this 
way  is  but  Difference;  and  hence  we  cannot  demonstrate  the 
advance  to  difference,  because  the  person  who  asks  for  the  How 
of  the  progress  thereby  implies  that  for  him  the  starting-point 
is  non-existent.  The  question  then  when  put  to  the  test  has 
obviously  no  meaning,  and  its  proposer  may  be  met  with  the 
question  what  he  means  by  Identity;  whereupon  we  should 
soon  see  that  he  attaches  no  idea  to  it  at  all,  and  that  Identity  is 
for  him  an  empty  name.  As  we  have  seen,  besides,  Identity 
is  undoubtedly  a'  negative,  —  not  however  an  abstract  empty 
Nought,  but  the  negation  of  Being  and  its  characteristics.  Being 
so,  Identity  is  at  the  same  time  self-relation,  and,  what  is  more, 
negative  self-relation;  in  other  words,  it  draws  a  distinction 
between  it  and  itself. 


(y)  THE  GROUND 

121.  The  GROUND  is  the  unity  of  identity  and  difference, 
the  truth  of  what  difference  and  identity  have  turned  out  to 
be,  —  the  reflection-into-self,  which  is  equally  a  reflection-into- 
another,  and  vice  versa.  It  is  essence  put  explicitly  as  a  total- 
ity. 

The  maxim  of  the  Ground  runs  thus:  Everything  has  its 
Sufficient  Ground :  that  is,  the  true  essentiality  of  any  thing  is 
not  the  predication  of  it  as  identical  with  itself,  or  as  different 
(various),  or  merely  positive,  or  merely  negative,  but  as  having 
its  Being  in  an  other,  which,  being  its  self-same,  is  its  essence. 
And  to  this  extent  the  essence  is  not  abstract  reflection  into  self, 
but  into  an  other.  The  Ground  is  the  essence  in  its  own  inward- 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  597 

ness;  the  essence  is  intrinsically  a  ground;  and  it  is  a  ground 
only  when  it  is  a  ground  of  somewhat,  of  an  other. 

We  must  be  careful,  when  we  say  that  the  ground  is  the  unity 
of  identity  and  difference,  not  to  understand  by  this  unity  an 
abstract  identity.  Otherwise  we  only  change  the  name,  while  we 
still  think  the  identity  (of  understanding)  already  seen  to  be 
false.  To  avoid  this  misconception  we  may  say  that  the  ground, 
besides  being  the  unity,  is  also  the  difference  of  identity  and 
difference.  In  that  case  in  the  ground,  which  promised  at  first 
to  supersede  contradiction,  a  new  contradiction  seems  to  arise. 
It  is  however  a  contradiction  which  so  far  from  persisting 
quietly  in  itself,  is  rather  the  expulsion  of  it  from  itself.  The 
ground  is  a  ground  only  to  the  extent  that  it  affords  ground: 
but  the  result  which  thus  issued  from  the  ground  is  only  itself. 
In  this  lies  its  formalism.  The  ground  and  what  is  grounded  are 
one  and  the  same  content :  the  difference  between  the  two  is  the 
mere  difference  of  form  which  separates  simple  self-relation,  on 
the  one  hand,  from  mediation  or  derivativeness  on  the  other. 
Inquiry  into  the  grounds  of  things  goes  with  the  point  of  view 
which,  as  already  noted  (note  to  §  112),  is  adopted  by  Reflection. 
We  wish,  as  it  were,  to  see  the  matter  double,  first  in  its  immedi- 
acy, and  secondly  in  its  ground,  where  it  is  no  longer  immediate. 
This  is  the  plain  meaning  of  the  law  of  sufficient  ground,  as  it 
is  called;  it  asserts  that  things  should  essentially  be  viewed  as 
mediated.  The  manner  in  which  Formal  Logic  establishes  this 
law  of  thought,  sets  a  bad  example  to  other  sciences.  Formal 
Logic  asks  these  sciences  not  to  accept  their  subject-matter  as  it 
is  immediately  given ;  and  yet  herself  lays  down  a  law  of  thought 
without  deducing  it,  —  in  other  words,  without  exhibiting  its 
mediation.  With  the  same  justice  as  the  logician  maintains  our 
faculty  of  thought  to  be  so  constituted  that  we  must  ask  for  the 
ground  of  everything,  might  the  physicist,  when  asked  why  a  man 
who  falls  into  water  is  drowned,  reply  that  man  happens  to  be 
so  organised  that  he  cannot  live  under  water;  or  the  jurist,  when 
asked  why  a  criminal  is  punished,  reply  that  civil  society  happens 
to  be  so  constituted  that  crimes  cannot  be  left  unpunished. 

Yet  even  if  logic  be  excused  the  duty  of  giving  a  ground  for 


598  HEGEL 

the  law  of  the  sufficient  ground,  it  might  at  least  explain  what 
is  to  be  understood  by  a  ground.  The  common  explanation, 
which  describes  the  ground  as  what  has  a  consequence,  seems  at 
the  first  glance  more  lucid  and  intelligible  than  the  preceding 
definition  in  logical  terms.  If  you  ask  however  what  the  conse- 
quence is,  you  are  told  that  it  is  what  has  a  ground ;  and  it  be- 
comes obvious  that  the  explanation  is  intelligible  only  because 
it  assumes  what  in  our  case  has  been  reached  as  the  termination 
of  an  antecedent  movement  of  thought.  And  this  is  the  true 
business  of  logic :  to  show  that  those  thoughts,  which  as  usually 
employed  merely  float  before  consciousness  neither  understood 
nor  demonstrated,  are  really  grades  hi  the  self-determination 
of  thought.  It  is  by  this  means  that  they  are  understood  and 
demonstrated. 


B.   APPEARANCE 

131.  The  Essence  must  appear  or  shine  forth.  Its  shining 
or  reflection  in  it  is  the  suspension  and  translation  of  it  to  im- 
mediacy, which,  whilst  as  reflection-on-self  it  is  matter  or  sub- 
sistence, is  also  form,  reflection-on-something-else,  a  subsistence 
which  sets  itself  aside.  To  show  or  shine  is  the  characteristic 
by  which  essence  is  distinguished  from  being,  —  by  which  it  is 
essence;  and  it  is  this  show  which,  when  it  is  developed,  shows 
itself,  and  is  Appearance.  Essence  accordingly  is  not  something 
beyond  or  behind  appearance,  but  just  because  it  is  the  essence 
which  exists  —  the  existence  is  APPEARANCE  (Forth- shining). 

Existence  stated  explicitly  in  its  contradiction  is  Appearance. 
But  appearance  (forth- shining)  is  not  to  be  confused  with  a 
mere  show  (shining).  Show  is  the  proximate  truth  of  Being  or 
immediacy.  The  immediate,  instead  of  being,  as  we  suppose, 
something  independent,  resting  on  its  own  self,  is  a  mere  show, 
and  as  such  it  is  packed  or  summed  up  under  the  simplicity  of 
the  immanent  essence.  The  essence  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  sum 
total  of  the  showing  itself,  shining  in  itself  (inwardly) ;  but,  far 
from  abiding  in  this  inwardness,  it  comes  as  a  ground  forward 
into  existence;  and  this  existence  being  grounded  not  in  itself, 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  599 

but  on  something  else,  is  just  appearance.  In  our  imagination 
we  ordinarily  combine  with  the  term  appearance  or  phenomenon 
the  conception  of  an  indefinite  congeries  of  things  existing,  the 
being  of  which  is  purely  relative,  and  which  consequently  do  not 
rest  on  a  foundation  of  their  own,  but  are  esteemed  only  as 
passing  stages.  But  in  this  conception  it  is  no  less  implied  that 
essence  does  not  linger  behind  or  beyond  appearance.  Rather 
it  is,  we  may  say,  the  infinite  kindness  which  lets  its  own  show 
freely  issue  into  immediacy,  and  graciously  allows  it  the  joy  of 
existence.  The  appearance  which  is  thus  created  does  not  stand 
on  its  own  feet,  and  has  its  being  not  in  itself  but  in  something 
else.  God  who  is  the  essence,  when  He  lends  existence  to  the 
passing  stages  of  his  own  show  in  himself,  may  be  described  as 
the  goodness  that  creates  a  world :  but  He  is  also  the  power  above 
it,  and  the  righteousness,  which  manifests  the  merely  phenomenal 
character  of  the  content  of  this  existing  world,  whenever  it  tries 
to  exist  in  independence. 

Appearance  is  in  every  way  a  very  important  grade  of  the 
logical  idea.  It  may  be  said  to  be  the  distinction  of  philosophy 
from  ordinary  consciousness  that  it  sees  the  merely  phenomenal 
character  of  what  the  latter  supposes  to  have  a  self-subsistent 
being.  The  significance  of  appearance  however  must  be  properly 
grasped,  or  mistakes  will  arise.  To  say  that  anything  is  a  mere 
appearance  may  be  misinterpreted  to  mean  that,  as  compared 
with  what  is  merely  phenomenal,  there  is  greater  truth  in  the 
immediate,  in  that  which  is.  Now  in  strict  fact,  the  case  is 
precisely  the  reverse.  Appearance  is  higher  than  mere  Being,  — 
a  richer  category  because  it  holds  in  combination  the  two  ele- 
ments of  reflection-into-self  and  reflection-into-another :  whereas 
Being  (or  immediacy)  is  still  mere  •  relationlessness,  and  ap- 
parently rests  upon  itself  alone.  Still,  to  say  that  anything  is 
only  an  appearance  suggests  a  real  flaw,  which  consists  in  this, 
that  Appearance  is  still  divided  against  itself  and  without  in- 
trinsic stability.  Beyond  and  above  mere  appearance  comes  in 
the  first  place  Actuality,  the  third  grade  of  Essence,  of  which 
we  shall  afterwards  speak. 


6oo  HEGEL 

C.   ACTUALITY 

142.  Actuality  is  the  unity,  become  immediate,  of  essence 
with  existence,  or  of  inward  with  outward.  The  utterance  of 
the  actual  is  the  actual  itself :  so  that  in  this  utterance  it  remains 
just  as  essential,  and  only  is  essential,  in  so  far  as  it  is  in  im- 
mediate external  existence. 

We  have  ere  this  met  Being  and  Existence  as  forms  of  the 
immediate.  Being  is,  in  general,  unreflected  immediacy  and 
transition  into  another.  Existence  is  immediate  unity  of  being 
and  reflection ;  hence  appearance :  it  comes  from  the  ground",  and 
falls  to  the  ground.  In  actuality  this  unity  is  explicitly  put,  and 
the  two  sides  of  the  relation  identified.  Hence  the  actual  is 
exempted  from  transition,  and  its  externality  is  its  energising. 
In  that  energising  it  is  reflected  into  itself:  its  existence  is  only 
the  manifestation  of  itself,  not  of  another. 

Actuality  and  thought  (or  Idea)  are  often  absurdly  opposed. - 
How  commonly  we  hear  people  saying  that,  though  no  objection 
can  be  urged  against  the  truth  and  correctness  of  a  certain 
thought,  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  to  be  seen  in  actuality,  or 
it  cannot  be  actually  carried  out !  People  who  use  such  language 
only  prove  that  they  have  not  properly  apprehended  the  nature 
either  of  thought  or  of  actuality.  Thought  in  such  a  case  is,  on 
one  hand,  the  synonym  for  a  subjective  conception,  plan,  inten- 
tion or  the  like,  just  as  actuality,  on  the  other,  is  made  synonymous 
with  external  and  sensible  existence.  This  is  all  very  well  in 
common  life,  where  great  laxity  is  allowed  in  the  categories  and 
the  names  given  to  them :  and  it  may  of  course  happen  that  e.  g. 
the  plan,  or  so-called  idea,  say  of  a  certain  method  of  taxation, 
is  good  and  advisable  in  the  abstract,  but  that  nothing  of  the 
sort  is  found  in  so-called  actuality,  or  could  possibly  be  carried 
out  under  the  given  conditions.  But  when  the  abstract  under- 
standing gets  hold  of  these  categories  and  exaggerates  the  dis- 
tinction they  imply  into  a  hard  and  fast  line  of  contrast,  when 
it  tells  us  that  in  this  actual  world  we  must  knock  ideas  out  of 
our  heads,  it  is  necessary  energetically  to  protest  against  these 
doctrines,  alike  hi  the  name  of  science  and  of  sound  reason. 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  601 

For  on  the  one  hand  Ideas  are  not  confined  to  our  heads  merely, 
nor  is  the  Idea,  upon  the  whole,  so  feeble  as  to  leave  the  question 
of  its  actualisation  or  non-actualisation  dependent  on  our  will. 
The  Idea  is  rather  the  absolutely  active  as  well  as  actual.  And 
on  the  other  hand  actuality,  is  not  so  bad  and  irrational,  as  pur- 
blind or  wrong-headed  and  muddle-brained  would-be  reformers 
imagine.  So  far  is  actuality,  as  distinguished  from  mere  ap- 
pearance, and  primarily  presenting  a  unity  of  inward  and  out- 
ward, from  being  in  contrariety  with  reason,  that  it  is  rather 
thoroughly  reasonable,  and  everything  which  is  not  reasonable 
must  on  that  very  ground  cease  to  be  held  actual.  The  same 
view  may  be  traced  hi  the  usages  of  educated  speech,  which 
declines  to  give  the  name  of  real  poet  or  real  statesman  to  a  poet 
or  a  statesman  who  can  do  nothing  really  meritorious  or  rea- 
sonable. 

143.  (a)  Viewed  as  an  identity  in  general,  Actuality  is  first 
of  all  POSSIBILITY  —  the  reflection-into-self  which,  as  in  con- 
trast with  the  concrete  unity  of  the  actual,  is  taken  and  made 
an  abstract  and  unessential  essentiality.    Possibility  is  what  is 
essential  to  reality,  but  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  at  the  same 
time  only  a  possibility. 

144.  (/?)  But  the  Actual  in  its  distinction  from  possibility 
(which  is  reflection-into-self)  is  itself  only  the  outward  concrete, 
the  unessential  immediate.    In  other  words,  to  such  extent  as 
the  actual  is  primarily  (§  142)  the    simple  merely  immediate 
unity  of  Inward  and  Outward,  it  is  obviously  made  an  unes- 
sential outward,  and  thus  at  the  same  time  (§  140)  it  is  merely 
inward,  the  abstraction  of  reflection-into-self.   Hence  it  is  itself 
characterised  as  a  merely  possible.    When  thus  valued  at  the 
rate  of  a  mere  possibility,  the  actual  is  a  CONTINGENT  or  Ac- 
cidental, and,  conversely,  possibility  is  mere  Accident  itself  or 
CHANCE. 

145.  Possibility   and    Contingency   are   the   two   factors   of 
Actuality,  —  Inward  and  Outward,  put  as  mere  forms  which 
constitute  the  externality  of  the  actual.   They  have  their  reflec- 
tion-into-self on  the  body  of  actual  fact,  or  content,  with  its 


6o2  HEGEL 

intrinsic  definiteness  which  gives  the  essential  ground  of  their 
characterisation.  The  finitude  of  the  contingent  and  the  possible 
lies,  therefore,  as  we  now  see,  in  the  distinction  of  the  form- 
determination  from  the  content:  and,  therefore,  it  depends  on 
the  content  alone  whether  anything. is  contingent  and  possible. 

147.  (7)  When  this  externality  (of  actuality)  is  thus  developed 
into  a  circle  of  the  two  categories  of  possibility  and  immediate 
actuality,  showing  the  intermediation  of  the  one  by  the  other, 
it  is  what  is  called  REAL  POSSIBILITY.  Being  such  a  circle, 
further,  it  is  the  totality,  and  thus  the  content,  the  actual  fact  or 
affair  in  its  all-round  definiteness.  Whilst  in  like  manner,  if 
we  look  at  the  distinction  between  the  two  characteristics  in  this 
unity,  it  realises  the  concrete  totality  of  the  form,  the  immediate 
self-translation  of  inner  into  outer,  and  of  outer  into  inner. 
This  self -movement  of  the  form  is  ACTIVITY,  carrying  into  effect 
the  fact  or  affair  as  a  real  ground  which  is  self-suspended  to 
actuality,  and  carrying  into  effect  the  contingent  actuality,  the 
conditions;  i.  e.  it  is  their  reflection-in-self,  and  their  self-sus- 
pension to  another  actuality,  the  actuality  of  the  actual  fact. 
If  all  the  conditions  are  at  hand,  the  fact  (event)  must  be  actual ; 
and  the  fact  itself  is  one  of  the  conditions :  for  being  in  the  first 
place  only  inner,  it  is  at  first  itself  only  pre-supposed.  Developed 
actuality,  as  the  coincident  alternation  of  inner  and  outer,  the 
alternation  of  their  opposite  motions  combined  into  a  single 
motion,  is  NECESSITY. 

The  theory  however  which  regards  the  world  as  determined 
through  necessity  and  the  belief  in  a  divine  providence  are  by 
no  means  mutually  excluding  points  of  view.  The  intellectual 
principle  underlying  the  idea  of  divine  providence  will  hereafter 
be  shown  to  be  the  notion.  But  the  notion  is  the  truth  of  neces- 
sity, which  it  contains  in  suspension  in  itself;  just  as,  conversely, 
necessity  is  the  notion  implicit.  Necessity  is  blind  only  so  long 
as  it  is  not  understood.  There  is  nothing  therefore  more  mis- 
taken than  the  charge  of  blind  fatalism  made  against  the  Phil- 
osophy of  History,  when  it  takes  for  its  problem  to  understand 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  603 

the  necessity  of  every  event.  The  philosophy  of  history  rightly 
understood  takes  the  rank  of  a  Theodicee;  and  those,  who 
fancy  they  honour  Divine  Providence  by  excluding  necessity 
from  it,  are  really  degrading  it  by  this  exclusiveness  to  a  blind 
and  irrational  caprice.  In  the  simple  language  of  the  religious 
mind  which  speaks  of  God's  eternal  and  immutable  decrees, 
there  is  implied  an  express  recognition  that  necessity  forms 
part  of  the  essence  of  God.  In  his  difference  from  God,  man, 
with  his  own  private  opinion  and  will,  follows  the  call  of  caprice 
and  arbitrary  humour,  and  thus  often  finds  his  acts  turn  out 
something  quite  different  from  what  he  had  meant  and  willed. 
But  God  knows  what  he  wills,  is  determined  in  his  eternal  will 
neither  by  accident  from  within  nor  from  without,  and  what  he 
wills  he  also  accomplishes,  irresistibly. 

159.  The  passage  from  necessity  to  freedom,  or  from  actual- 
ity into  the  notion,  is  the  very  hardest,  because  it  proposes  that 
independent  actuality  shall  be  thought  as  having  all  its  substan- 
tiality in  the  passing  over  and  identity  with  the  other  independ- 
ent actuality.  The  notion,  too,  is  extremely  hard,  because  it  is 
itself  just  this  very  identity.  But  the  actual  substance  as  such, 
the  cause,  which  in  its  exclusiveness  resists  all  invasion,  is  ipso 
facto  subjected  to  necessity  or  the  destiny  of  passing  into  depend- 
ency :  and  it  is  this  subjection  rather  where  the  chief  hardness 
lies.  To  think  necessity,  on  the  contrary,  rather  tends  to  melt 
that  hardness.  For  thinking  means  that,  in  the  other,  one  meets 
with  one's  self.  — .It  means  a  liberation,  which  is  not  the  flight 
of  abstraction,  but  consists  in  that  which  is  actual  having  itself 
not  as  something  else,  but  as  its  own  being  and  creation,  in  the 
other  actuality  with  which  it  is  bound  up  by  the  force  of  neces- 
sity. As  existing  in  an  individual  form,  this  liberation  is  called 
I :  as  developed  to  its  totality,  it  is  free  Spirit ;  as  feeling,  it  is 
Love ;  and  as  enjoyment,  it  is  Blessedness.  —  The  great  vision 
of  substance  in  Spinoza  is  only  a  potential  liberation  from  finite 
exclusiveness  and  egoism:  but  the  notion  itself  realises  for  its 
own  both  the  power  of  necessity  and  actual  freedom. 

When,  as  now,  the  notion  is  called  the  truth  of  Being  and 
Essence,  we  must  expect  to  be  asked,  why  we  do  not  begin  with 


6o4  .  HEGEL 

the  notion  ?  The  answer  is  that,  where  knowledge  by  thought  is 
our  aim,  we  cannot  begin  with  the  truth,  because  the  truth, 
when  it  forms  the  beginning,  must  rest  on  mere  assertion.  The 
truth  when  it  is  thought  must  as  such  verify  itself  to  thought. 
If  the  notion  were  put  at  the  head  of  Logic,  and  denned,  quite 
correctly  in  point  of  content,  as  the  unity  of  Being  and  Essence, 
the  following  question  would  come  up:  What  are  we  to  think 
under  the  terms  " Being"  and  "Essence,"  and  how  do  they 
come  to  be  embraced  in  the  unity  of  the  Notion?  But  if  we 
answered  these  questions,  then  our  beginning  with  the  notion 
would  be  merely  nominal.  The  real  start  would  be  made  with 
Being,  as  we  have  here  done :  with  this  difference,  that  the 
characteristics  of  Being  as  well  as  those  of  Essence  would  have 
to  be  accepted  uncritically  from  figurate  conception,  whereas 
we  have  observed  Being  and  Essence  hi  their  own  dialectical 
development  and  learnt  how  they  lose  themselves  hi  the  unity 
of  the  notion. 

v- 

V 

CHAPTER  IX.  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  NOTION 

160.  The  NOTION  is  the  principle  of  freedom,  the  power  of 
substance  self-realised.  It  is  a  systematic  whole,  in  which  each 
of  its  constituent  functions  is  the  very  total  which  the  notion  is, 
and  is  put  as  indissolubly  one  with  it.  Thus  in  its  self -identity 
it  has  original  and  complete  determinateness. 

The  position  taken  up  by  the  notion  is  that  of  absolute  ideal- 
ism. Philosophy  is  a  knowledge  through  notions  because  it  sees 
that  what  on  other  grades  of  consciousness  is  taken  to  have 
Being,  and  to  be  naturally  or  immediately  independent,  is  but  a 
constituent  stage  in  the  Idea.  In  the  logic  of  understanding, 
the  notion  is  generally  reckoned  a  mere  form  of  thought,  and 
treated  as  a  general  conception.  It  is  to  this  inferior  view  of 
the  notion  that  the  assertion  refers,  so  often  urged  on  behalf  of 
the  heart  and  sentiment,  that  notions  as  such  are  something 
dead,  empty,  and  abstract.  The  case  is  really  quite  the  reverse. 
The  notion  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  principle  of  all  life,  and  thus 
possesses  at  the  same  time  a  character  of  thorough  concreteness. 


THE  LOGIC  OF  QEGEL  605 

That  it  is  so  follows  from,  the  whole  logical  movement  up  to 
this  point,  and  need  not  be  here  proved.  The  contrast  between 
form  and  content,  which  is  thus  used  to  criticise  the  notion 
when  it  is  alleged  to  be  merely  formal,  has,  like  all  the  other 
contrasts  upheld  by  reflection,  been  already  left  behind  and 
overcome  dialectically  or  through  itself.  The  notion,  in  short,  is 
what  contains  all  the  earlier  categories  of  thought  merged  in  it. 
It  certainly  is  a  form,  but  an  infinite  and  creative  form,  which 
includes,  but  at  the  same  time  releases  from  itself,  the  fulness 
of  all  content.  And  so  too  the  notion  may,  if  it  be  wished,  be 
styled  abstract,  if  the  name  concrete  is  restricted  to  the  concrete 
facts  of  sense  or  of  immediate  perception.  For  the  notion  is  not 
palpable  to  the  touch,  and  when  we  are  engaged  with  it,  hearing 
and  seeing  must  quite  fail  us.  And  yet,  as  it  was  before  remarked, 
the  notion  is  a  true  concrete;  for  the  reason  that  it  involves 
Being  and  Essence,  and  the  total  wealth  of  these  two  spheres 
with  them,  merged  in  the  unity  of  thought. 

If,  as  was  said  at  an  earlier  point,  the  different  stages  of  the 
logical  idea  are  to  be  treated  as  a  series  of  definitions  of  the 
Absolute,  the  definition  which  now  results  for  us  is  that  the 
Absolute  is  the  Notion.  That  necessitates  a  higher  estimate  of 
the  notion,  however,  than  is  found  in  formal  conceptualist  Logic, 
where  the  notion  is  a  mere  form  of  our  subjective  thought,  with 
no  original  content  of  its  own.  But  if  Speculative  Logic  thus 
attaches  a  meaning  to  the  term  notion  so  very  different  from  that 
usually  given,  it  may  be  asked  why  the  same  word  should  be 
employed  in  two  contrary  acceptations,  and  an  occasion  thus 
given  for  confusion  and  misconception.  The  answer  is  that, 
great  as  the  interval  is  between  the  speculative  notion  and  the 
notion  of  Formal  Logic,  a  closer  examination  shows  that  the 
deeper  meaning  is  not  so  foreign  to  the  general  usages  of  lan- 
guage as  it  seems  at  first  sight.  We  speak  of  the  deduction  of  a 
content  from  the  notion,  e.  g.  of  the  specific  provisions  of  the 
law  of  property  from  the  notion  of  property;  and  so  again  we 
speak  of  tracing  back  these  material  details  to  the  notion.  We 
thus  recognise  that  the  notion  is  no  mere  form  without  a  content 
of  its  own :  for  if  it  were,  there  would  be  in  the  one  case  nothing 


6o6  .    HEGEL 

to  deduce  from  such  a  form,  and  in  the  other  case  to  trace  a 
given  body  of  fact  back  to  the  empty  form  of  the  notion  would 
only  rob  the  fact  of  its  specific  character,  without  making  it 
understood. 

162.  The  doctrine  of  the  notion  is  divided  into  three  parts. 

(1)  The  first  is  the  doctrine  of  the  SUBJECTIVE  or  Formal  NOTION. 

(2)  The  second  is  the  doctrine  of  the  notion  invested  with  the 
character  of  immediacy,  or  of  OBJECTIVITY.   (3)  The  third  is  the 
doctrine  of  the  IDEA,  the  subject-object,  the  unity  of  notion  and 
objectivity,  the  absolute  truth. 

A.    THE  SUBJECTIVE  NOTION 
(a)  The  Notion  as  Notion. 

163.  The  Notion  as  Notion  contains  the  three  following 
"moments"  or  functional  parts,    (i)  The  first  is  UNIVERSALITY 
—  meaning  that  it  is  in  free  equality  with  itself  in  its  specific 
character.    (2)  The  second  is  PARTICULARITY  —  that  is,  the 
specific  character,  in  which  the  universal  continues  serenely 
equal  to  itself.     (3)  The  third  is  INDIVIDUALITY  —  meaning 
the  reflection-into-self  of  the  specific  characters  of  universality 
and  particularity;  — which  negative  self-unity  has  complete 
and  original  determinateness,  without  any  loss  to  its  self-identity 
or  universality. 

164.  Universality,  particularity,  and  individuality  are,  taken 
in  the  abstract,  the  same  as  identity,  difference,  and  ground. 
But  the  universal  is  the  self-identical,  with  the  express  qualifi- 
cation, that  it  simultaneously  contains  the  particular  and  the 
individual.   Again,  the  particular  is  the  different  or  the  specific 
character,  but  with  the  qualification  that  it  is  in  itself  universal 
and  is  as  an  individual.  Similarly  the  individual  must  be  under- 
stood to  be  a  subject  or  substratum,  which  involves  the  genus 
and  species  in  itself  and  possesses  a  substantial  existence.   Such 
is  the  explicit  or  realised  inseparability  of  the  functions  of  the 
notion  in  their  difference  (§  160)  —  what  may  be  called  the  clear- 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  607 

ness  of  the  notion,  in  which  each  distinction  causes  no  dimness 
or  interruption,  but  is  quite  as  much  transparent. 
.  No  complaint  is  oftener  made  against  the  notion  than  that  it 
is  abstract.  Of  course  it  is  abstract,  if  abstract  means  that  the 
medium  in  which  the  notion  exists  is  thought  in  general  and  not 
the  sensible  thing  in  its  empirical  concreteness.  It  is  abstract 
also,  because  the  notion  falls  short  of  the  idea.  To  this  extent 
the  subjective  notion  is  still  formal.  This  however  does  not 
mean  that  it  ought  to  have  or  receive  another  content  than  its 
own.  It  is  itself  the  absolute  form,  and  so  is  all  specific  character, 
but  as  that  character  is  in  its  truth.  Although  it  be  abstract 
therefore,  it  is  the  concrete,  concrete  altogether,  the  subject  as 
such.  The  absolutely  concrete  is  the  mind  (see  end  of  §  159)  - 
the  notion  when  it  exists  as  notion  distinguishing  itself  from  its 
objectivity,  which  notwithstanding  the  distinction  still  continues 
to  be  its  own.  Everything  else  which  is  concrete,  however  rich 
it  be,  is  not  so  intensely  identical  with  itself  and  therefore  not 
so  concrete  on  its  own  part,  —  least  of  all  what  is  commonly 
supposed  to  be  concrete,  but  is  only  a  congeries  held  together 
by  external  influence.  —  What  are  called  notions,  and  in  fact 
specific  notions,  such  as  man,  house,  animal,  &c.,  are  simply 
denotations  and  abstract  representations.  These  abstractions 
retain  out  of  all  the  functions  of  the  notion  only  that  of  univer- 
sality; they  leave  particularity  and  individuality  out  of  account 
and  have  no  development  in  these  directions.  By  so  doing  they 
just  miss  the  notion. 

165.  It  is  the  element  of  Individuality  which  first  explicitly 
differentiates  the  elements  of  the  notion.  Individuality  is  the 
negative  reflection  of  the  notion  into  itself,  and  it  is  in  that  way 
at  first  the  free  differentiating  of  it  as  the  first  negation,  by  which 
the  specific  character  of  the  notion  is  realized,  but  under  the 
form  of  particularity.  That  is  to  say,  the  different  elements  are 
in  the  first  place  only  qualified  as  the  several  elements  of  the 
notion,  and,  secondly,  their  identity  is  no  less  explicitly  stated, 
the  one  being  said  to  be  the  other.  This  realised  particularity 
of  the  notion  is  the  Judgment. 


608  HEGEL 

(b)  The  Judgment. 

1 66.  The  JUDGMENT  is  the  notion  in  its  particularity,  as  a 
connexion  which  is  also  a  distinguishing  of  its  functions,  which 
are  put  as  independent  and  yet  as  identical  with  themselves,  not 
with  one  another. 

One's  first  impression  about  the  Judgment  is  the  independence 
of  the  two  extremes,  the  subject  and  the  predicate.  The  former 
we  take  to  be  a  thing  or  term  per  se,  and  the  predicate  a  general 
term  outside  the  said  subject  and  somewhere  in  our  heads.  The 
next  point  is  for  us  to  bring  the  latter  into  combination  with  the 
former,  and  in  this  way  frame  a  Judgment.  The  copula  "is" 
however  enunciates  the  predicate  oj  the  subject,  and  so  that  ex- 
ternal subjective  subsumption  is  again  put  in  abeyance,  and  the 
Judgment  taken  as  a  determination  of  the  object  itself.  —  The 
etymological  meaning  of  the  Judgment  (Urtheil)  in  German 
goes  deeper,  as  it  were  declaring  the  unity  of  the  notion  to  be 
primary,  and  its  distinction  to  be  the  original  partition.  And 
that  is  what  the  Judgment  really  is. 

B.  THE,  OBJECT 

194.  The  OBJECT  is  immediate  being,  because  insensible  to 
difference,  which  in  it  has  suspended  itself.  It  is,  further,  a 
totality  in  itself,  whilst  at  the  same  time  (as  this  identity  is  only 
the  implicit  identity  of  its  dynamic  elements)  it  is  equally  in- 
different to  its  immediate  unity.  It  thus  breaks  up  into  distinct 
parts,  each  of  which  is  itself  the  totality.  Hence  the  object  is 
the  absolute  contradiction  between  a  complete  independence  of 
the  multiplicity,  and  the  equally  complete  non-independence 
of  the  different  pieces. 

The  definition,  which  states  that  the  Absolute  is  the  Object, 
is  most  definitely  implied  in  the  Leibnitzian  Monad.  The 
Monads  are  each  an  object,  but  an  object  implicitly  "  represent- 
ative," indeed  the  total  representation  of  the  world.  In  the  sim- 
ple unity  of  the  Monad,  all  difference  is  merely  ideal,  not  inde- 
pendent or  real.  Nothing  from  without  comes  into  the  monad : 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  609 

it  is  the  whole  notion  in  itself,  only  distinguished  by  its  own 
greater  or  less  development.  None  the  less,  this  simple  totality 
parts  into  the  absolute  multeity  of  differences,  each  becoming 
an  independent  monad.  In  the  monad  of  monads,  and  the  Pre- 
established  Harmony  of  their  inward  developments,  these  sub- 
stances are  in  like  manner  again  reduced  to  "ideality"  and  un- 
substantiality.  The  philosophy  of  Leibnitz,  therefore,  repre- 
sents contradiction  in  its  complete  development. 

(2)  Objectivity  contains  the  three  forms  of  Mechanism, 
Chemism,  and  Teleology.  The  object  of  mechanical  type  is  the 
immediate  and  undifferentiated  object.  No  doubt  it  contains 
difference,  but  the  different  pieces^  stand,  as  it  were,  without 
affinity  to  each  other,  and  their  connexion  is  only  extraneous. 
In  chemism,  on  the  contrary,  the  object  exhibits  an  essential 
tendency  to  differentiation,  in  such  a  way  that  the  objects  are 
what  they  are  only  by  tKeir  relation  to  each  other :  this  tendency 
to  difference  constitutes  their  quality.  The  third  type  of  objec- 
tivity, the  teleological  relation,  is  the  unity  of  mechanism  and 
chemism.  Design,  -like  the  mechanical  object,  is  a  self-contained 
totality,  enriched  however  by  the  principle  of  differentiation 
which  came  to  the  fore  in  chemism,  and  thus  referring  itself  to 
the  object  that  stands  over  against  it.  Finally,  it  is  the  realiza- 
tion of  design  which  forms  the  transition  to  the  Idea. 

C.  THE  IDEA 

213.  The  IDEA  is  truth  in  itself  and  for  itself,  —  the  absolute 
unity  of  the  notion  and  objectivity.  Its  " ideal"  content  isTIo- 
tliing  but  the  notion  in  its  detailed  terms:  its  "real"  content  is 
only  the  exhibition  which  the  notion  gives  itself  in  the  form  of 
external  existence,  whilst  yet,  by  enclosing  this  shape  in  its  ideal- 
ity, it  keeps  it  in  its  power,  and  so  keeps  itself  in  it. 

The  definition,  which  declares  the  Absolute  to  be  the  Idea, 
is  itself  absolute.  All  former  definitions  come  back  to  this.  The 
Idea  is  the  Truth :  for  Truth  is  the  correspondence  of  objectivity 
with  the  notion :  —  not  of  course  the  correspondence  of  external 


610  HEGEL 

things  with  my  conceptions,  —  for  these  are  only  correct  con- 
ceptions held  by  me,  the  individual  person.  In  the  idea  we  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  individual,  nor  with  figurate  conceptions, 
nor  with  external  things.  And  yet,  again,  everything  actual,  in 
so  far  as  it  is  true,  is  the  Idea,  and  has  its  truth  by  and  in  virtue 
of  the  Idea  alone.  Every  individual  being  is  some  one  aspect  of 
the  Idea :  for  which,  therefore,  yet  other  actualities  are  needed, 
which  in  their  turn  appear  to  have  a  self-subsistence  of  their 
own.  It  is  only  in  them  altogether  and  in  their  relation  that  the 
notion  is  realised.  The  individual  by  itself  does  not  correspond 
to  its  notion.  It  is  this  limitation  of  its  existence  which  consti- 
tutes the  finitude  and  the  ruin  of  the  individual. 

When  we  hear  the  Idea  spoken  of,  we  need  not  imagine  some- 
thing far  away  beyond  this  mortal  sphere.  The  idea  is  rather 
what  is  completely  present:  and  it  is  found,  however  confused 
and  degenerated,  in  every  consciousness.  We  conceive  the  world 
to  ourselves  as  a  great  totality  which  is  created  by  God,  and  so 
created  that  in  it  God  has  manifested  himself  to  us.  We  regard 
the  world  also  as  ruled  by  Divine  Providence :  implying  that  the 
scattered  and  divided  parts  of  the  world  are  continually  brought 
back,  and  made  conformable,  to  the  unity  from  which  they  have 
issued.  The  purpose  of  philosophy  has  always  been  the  intel- 
lectual ascertainment  of  the  Idea ;  and  everything  deserving  the 
name  of  philosophy  has  constantly  been  based  on  the  conscious- 
ness of  an  absolute  unity  where  the  understanding  sees  and  ac- 
cepts only  separation.  —  It  is  too  late  now  to  ask  for  proof  that 
the  Idea  is  the  truth.  The  proof  of  that  is  contained  in  the  whole 
deduction  and  development  of  thought  up  to  this  point.  The 
idea  is  the  result  of  this  course  of  dialectic.  Not  that  it  is  to  be 
supposed  that  the  idea  is  mediate  only,  i.  e.  mediated  through 
something  else  than  itself.  It  is  rather  its  own  result,  and  being 
so,  is  no  less  immediate  than  mediate.  The  stages  hitherto  con- 
sidered, viz.  those  of  Being  and  Essence,  as  well  as  those  of 
Notion  and  of  Objectivity,  are  not,  when  so  distinguished,  some- 
thing permanent,  resting  upon  themselves.  They  have  proved 
to  be  dialectical ;  and  their  only  truth  is  that  they  arc  dynamic 
elements  of  the  idea. 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  611 

214.  The  Idea  may  be  described  in  many  ways.  It  may  be 
called  reason  (and  this  is  the  proper  philosophical  signification 
of  reason);  subject-object;  the  unity  of  the  ideal  and  the  real, 
of  the  finite  and  the  infinite,  of  soul  and  body;  the  possibility 
which  has  its  actuality  in  its  own  self;  that  of  which  the  nature 
can  be  thought  only  as  existent,  &c.  All  these  descriptions  apply, 
because  the  Idea  contains  all  the  relations  of  understanding, 
but  contains  them  in  their  infinite  self-return  and  self-identity. 

It  is  easy  work  for  the  understanding  to  show  that  everything 
said  of  the  Idea  is  self -contradictory.  But  that  can  quite  as  well 
be  retaliated,  or  rather  in  the  Idea  the  retaliation  is  actually 
made.  And  this  work,  which  is  the  work  of  reason,  is  certainly 
not  so  easy  as  that  of  the  understanding.  Understanding  may 
demonstrate  that  the  Idea  is  self-contradictory:  because  the 
subjective  is  subjective  only  and  is  always  confronted  by  the 
objective,  —  because  being  is  different  from  notion  and  there- 
fore cannot  be  picked  out  of  it,  —  because  the  finite  is  finite 
only,  the  exact  antithesis  of  the  infinite,  and  therefore  not  iden- 
tical with  it ;  and  so  on  with  every  term  of  the  description*  The 
reverse  of  all  this  however  is  the  doctrine  of  Logic.  Logic  shows 
that  the  subjective  which  is  to  be  subjective  only,  the  finite  which 
would  be  finite  only,  the  infinite  which  would  be  infinite  only, 
and  so  on,  have  no  truth,  but  contradict  themselves,  and  pass 
over  into  their  opposites.  Hence  this  transition,  and  the  unity 
in  which  the  extremes  are  merged  and  become  factors,  each  with 
a  merely  reflected  existence,  reveals  itself  as  their  truth. 

The  understanding,  which  addresses  itself  to  deal  with  the 
Idea,  commits  a  double  misunderstanding.  It  takes  first  the  ex- 
tremes of  the  Idea  (be  they  expressed  as  they  will,  so  long  as 
they  are  in  their  unity),  not  as  they  are  understood  when  stamped 
with  this  concrete  unity,  but  as  if  they  remained  abstractions 
outside  of  it.  It  no  less  mistakes  the  relation  between  them,  even 
when  it  has  been  expressly  stated.  Thus,  for  example,  it  over- 
looks even  the  nature  of  the  copula  in  the  judgment,  which 
affirms  that  the  individual,  or  subject,  is  after  all  not  individual, 
but  universal.  But,  in  the  second  place,  the  understanding 
believes  its  "reflection," — that  the  self-identical  Idea  contains 


612  HEGEL 

its  own  negative,  or  contains  contradiction,  —  to  be  an  external 
reflection  which  does  not  lie  within  the  Idea  itself.  But  the  re- 
flection is  really  no  peculiar  cleverness  of  the  understanding. 
The  Idea  itself  is  the  dialectic  which  for  ever  divides  and  dis- 
tinguishes the  self-identical  from  the  differentiated,  the  subjec- 
tive from  the  objective,  the  finite  from  the  infinite,  soul  from 
body.  Only  on  these  terms  is  it  an  eternal  creation,  eternal  vital- 
ity, and  eternal  spirit.  But  while  it  thus  passes  or  rather  trans- 
lates itself  into  the  abstract  understanding,  it  for  ever  remains 
reason.  The  Idea  is  the  dialectic  which  again  makes  this  mass 
of  understanding  and  diversity  understand  its  finite  nature  and 
the  pseudo-independence  in  its  productions,  and  which  brings 
the  diversity  back  to  unity.  Since  this  double  movement  is  not 
separate  or  distinct  in  time,  nor  indeed  in  any  other  way  - 
otherwise  it  would  be  only  a  repetition  of  the  abstract  under- 
standing —  the  Idea  is  the  eternal  vision  of  itself  in  the  other, 
-  notion  which  in  its  objectivity  has  carried  out  itself,  —  object 
which  is  inward  design,  essential  subjectivity. 

The  different  modes  of  apprehending  the  Idea  as  unity  of 
ideal  and  real,  of  finite  and  infinite,  of  identity  and  difference, 
etc.,  are  more  or  less  formal.  They  designate  some  one  stage  of 
the  specific  notion.  Only  the  notion  itself,  however,  is  free  and 
the  genuine  universal :  in  the  Idea,  therefore,  the  specific  char- 
acter of  the  notion  is  only  the  notion  itself,  —  an  objectivity, 
viz.,  into  which  it,  being  the  universal,  continues  itself,  and  in 
which  it  has  only  its  own  character,  the  total  character.  The 
Idea  is  the  infinite  judgment,  of  which  the  terms  are  severally 
the  independent  totality;  and  in  which,  as  each  grows  to  the 
fulness  of  its  own  nature,  it  has  thereby  at  the  same  time  passed 
into  the  other.  None  of  the  other  specific  notions  exhibits  this 
totality  complete  on  both  its  sides  as  the  notion  itself  and  ob- 
jectivity. 

215.  The  Idea  is  essentially  a  process,  because  its  identity 
is  the  absolute  and  free  identity  of  the  notion,  only  in  so  far  as 
it  is  absolute  negativity  and  for  that  reason  dialectical.  It  is  the 
round  of  movement,  in  which  the  notion,  in  the  capacity  of  uni- 
versality which  is  individuality,  gives  itself  the  character  of  ob- 


THE  LOGIC  OF  HEGEL  613 

jectivity  and  of  the  antithesis  thereto ;  and  this  externality  which 
has  the  notion  for  its  substance,  finds  its  way  back  to  subjec- 
tivity through  its  immanent  dialectic. 

As  the  idea  is  (a)  a  process,  it  follows  that  such  an  expression 
for  the  Absolute  as  unity  of  thought  and  being,  of  finite  and 
infinite,  etc.,  is  false;  for  unity  expresses  an  abstract  and  merely 
quiescent  identity.  As  the  Idea  is  (b)  subjectivity,  it  follows  that 
the  expression  is  equally  false  on  another  account.  That  unity 
of  which  it  speaks  expresses  a  merely  virtual  or  underlying  pre- 
sence of  the  genuine  unity.  The  infinite  would  thus  seem  to  be 
merely  neutralised  by  the  finite,  the  subjective  by  the  objective, 
thought  by  being.  But  in  the  negative  unity  of  the  Idea,  the 
infinite  overlaps  and  includes  the  finite,  thought  overlaps  being, 
subjectivity  overlaps  objectivity.  The  unity  of  the  Idea  is 
thought,  infinity,  and  subjectivity,  and  is  in  consequence  to  be 
essentially  distinguished  from  the  Idea  as  substance,  just  as  this 
overlapping  subjectivity,  thought,  or  infinity  is  to  be  distin- 
guished from  the  one-sided  .subjectivity,  one-sided  thought,  one- 
sided infinity  to  which  it  descends  in  judging  and  defining. 

The  idea  as  a  process  runs  through  three  stages  in  its  develop- 
ment. The  first  form  of  the  idea  is  Life :  that  is,  the  idea  in  the 
form  of  immediacy.  The  second  form  is  that  of  mediation  or 
differentiation;  and  this  is  the  idea  in  the  form  of  Knowledge, 
which  appears  under  the  double  aspect  of  the  Theoretical  and 
Practical  idea.  The  process  of  knowledge  eventuates  in  the 
restoration  of  the  unity  enriched  by  difference.  This  gives  the 
third  form  of  the  idea,  the  Absolute  Idea:  which  last  stage  of 
the  logical  idea  evinces  itself  to  be  at  the  same  time  the  true  first, 
and  to  have  a  being  due  to  itself  alone. 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT 

Freely  translated  from  the  German  *  by 
JOSIAH  ROYCE 

THE  CONTRITE  CONSCIOUSNESS1 

IN  Scepticism  Consciousness  learns  in  truth,  that  it  is  divided 
against  itself.  And  from  this  experience  there  is  born  a  new 
Type  of  Consciousness,  wherein  are  linked  the  two  thoughts 
which  Scepticism  had  kept  asunder.  The  thoughtless  self- 
ignorance  of  Scepticism  must  pass  away;  for  in  fact  the  two 

*  From  Hegel's  System  der  Wissenschaft,  Erster  Theil :  Die  Phdnomenologie 
des  Geistes,  Wurzburg,  1807. 

1  The  Phdnomenologie  des  Geistes,  the  first  of  Hegel's  systematic  works  (1807), 
is  intended  as  a  novel  sort  of  "Introduction  to  Philosophy."  It  depicts  a 
series  of  "phases"  or  Gestalten  of  consciousness  which  lie  between  our  natural 
"common  sense"  view  of  the  real  world,  and  what  Hegel  regards  as  the  truly 
philosophical  view  of  reality.  These  phases  form  a  series,  whose  order  Hegel 
conceives  as  necessary.  Each  stage  or  phase  of  insight  into  the  truth  of  things 
is  meanwhile  illustrated  in  this  book  by  examples  derived  from  literature,  from 
history,  or  from  the  general  experience  of  mankind.  These  mere  illustrations 
are  freely  chosen;  and  Hegel  does  not  conceive  that  the  special  embodiment  or 
clothing  which  his  choice  of  the  illustrations  gives  to  each  phase  or  stage  of 
consciousness  is  part  of  the  necessary  development. 

The  "  unhappy  "  or  "  contrite  "  consciousness  (das  ungliickliche  Be-wusstsein) 
is  a  phase  or  stage  of  consciousness  which  is  subjectively  idealistic  in  its  inter- 
pretation of  reality,  but  which  is  abstract  and  dualistic  in  its  view  of  its  relations 
to  truth.  It  is  therefore  concerned  not  with  external  nature,  but  with  its  own 
private  ideals,  and  with  a  search  for  personal  perfection.  It  is,  in  brief,  what 
Professor  William  James  might  call  a  "variety  of  religious  experience."  This 
experience  is  here  that  of  a  lonely  devotee,  whose  world  consists  of  his  search 
for  inner  spiritual  perfection,  together  with  the  goal  of  this  search,  namely  his 
far-off  "changeless"  or  divine  consciousness.  Both  the  social  and  the  more 
technically  theological  aspects  of  religion  play  no  essential  part  in  the  phase  of 
consciousness  here  in  question.  The  illustrations  are  obviously  derived  from 
mediaeval  cloister  life;  but  this  part  of  the  setting  of  the  phase  in  question  is 
accidental.  Any  lonely  religious  experience  might  present  essentially  the  same 
features. 

The  union  of  theoretical  opinions  about  the  nature  of  truth,  with  practical 
and  emotional  interpretations  of  life,  is  characteristic  of  the  Phenomenology. 
Any  coherent  plan  of  life  embodies  a  theory  of  truth  and  of  reality.  Any  view- 
about  the  universe  expresses  itself  in  a  way  of  life.  Such  is  the  general  notion 
illustrated  by  the  phases  of  consciousness  which  the  Phenomenology  portrays. 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT     615 

attitudes  of  Scepticism  express  One  Consciousness.  This  new 
Type  of  Consciousness  is  therefore  explicitly  aware  of  its  own 
doubleness.  It  regards  itself  on  the  one  hand  as  the  Deliverer, 
changeless  and  self-possessed;  on  the  other  hand  it  regards  it- 
self as  the  absolutely  confounded  and  contrary;  and  it  is  the 
awareness  of  this  its  own  contradiction.  —  In  Stoicism  the  Self 
owns  itself  in  the  simplicity  of  freedom.  In  Scepticism  it  gives 
itself  embodiment,  makes  naught  of  other  embodied  reality, 
but,  in  the  very  act  of  so  doing,  renders  itself  the  rather  twofold 
and  is  now  parted  in  twain.  Hereby  the  same  duplication  that 
was  formerly  shared  between  two  individuals,  the  Lord  and 
the  Slave,  has  now  entered  into  the  nature  of  one  individual. 
The  differentiation  of  the  Self,  which  is  the  essential  Law  of 
the  Spirit,  is  already  present,  but  not  as  constituting  an  organic 
unity,  and  the  CONTRITE  CONSCIOUSNESS  is  this  awareness  of 
the  Self  as  the  divided  Nature,  wherein  is  only  conflict. 

This  Contrite  and  Broken  Consciousness,  just  because  the 
conflict  of  its  Nature  is  known  as  belonging  to  one  person,  must 
forever,  in  each  of  its  two  forms,  have  the  other  also  present  to 
it.  Whenever,  in  either  form,  it  seems  to  have  come  to  victory 
and  unity,  it  finds  no  rest  there,  but  is  forthwith  driven  over  to 
the  other.  Its  true  home-coming,  its  true  reconciliation  with 
itself,  will,  however,  display  to  us  the  law  of  the  Spirit,  as  he 
will  appear  when,  having  come  to  life,  he  has  entered  the  world 
of  his  manifestation.  For  it  already  belongs  to  the  Contrite 
Consciousness  to  be  one  undivided  soul  in  the  midst  of  its  double- 
ness.  It  is  in  fact  the  very  gazing  of  one  Self  into  another ;  it  is 
both  these  selves ;  it  has  no  nature  save  in  so  far  as  it  unites  the 
two.  But  thus  far  it  knows  not  yet  this  its  own  real  essence ;  it 
has  not  entered  into  possession  of  this  unity. 

For  the  first  then,  the  Contrite  Consciousness  is  but  the  un- 
won  unity  of  the  two  selves.  To  its  view  the  two  are  not  one, 
but  are  at  war  together.  And  accordingly  it  regards  one  of  them, 
viz.,  the  simple,  the  Changeless  Consciousness,  as  the  True 
Self.  The  other,  the  multiform  and  fickle,  it  regards  as  the 
False  Self.  The  Contrite  Consciousness  finds  these  two  as 
mutually  estranged.  For  its  own  part,  because  it  is  the  aware- 


6i6  HEGEL 

ness  of  this  contradiction,  it  takes  sides  with  the  Changeless^ 
Consciousness,  and  calls  itself  the  False  Self.  But -.since  it  is'^ 
aware^  of  the  Changeless,  i.  e.  of  the  True  Self,  its  task  must 
be  one  of  self-deliverance,  that  is,  the  task  of  delivering  itself 
from  the  unreality.  For  on  the  one  hand  it  knows  itself  only  as 
the  fickle ;  and  the  changeless  is  far  remote  from  it.  And  yet  the 
Contrite  Consciousness  is  in  its  genuine  selfhood  one  with  the 
simple  and  Changeless  Consciousness;  for  therein  lies  its  own 
true  Self.  But  yet  again  it  knows  that  it  is  not  in  possession  of 
this  true  self.  So  long  as  the  Contrite  Consciousness  assigns 
to  the  two  selves  this  position,  they  cannot  remain  indifferent 
to  each  other;  or,  in  other  words,  the  Contrite  Consciousness 
cannot  itself  be  indifferent  to  the  Changeless.  For  the  Contrite 
Consciousness  is,  as  a  fact,  of  both  kinds,  and  knows  the  rela- 
tion of  the  changeless  to  the  fickle  as  a  relation  of  truth  to  false- 
hood. The  falsehood  must  be  turned  to  naught ;  but  since  the 
Contrite  Consciousness  finds  both  the  false  and  the  true  alike 
necessary  to  it,  and  contradictory,  there  remains  to  it  only  the 
contradictory  movement,  wherein  neither  of  the  opposed  ele- 
ments can  find  repose  in  going  over  to  its  opponent  but  must 
create  itself  anew  in  the  opponent's  very  bosom. 

To  win,  then,  in  this  strife  against  the  adversary,  is  rather  to 
be  vanquished.  To  attain  one  goal,  is  rather  to  lose  it  in  its 
opposite.  The  whole  life,  whatever  it  be,  whatever  it  do,  is  aware 
only  of  the  pain  of  this  being  and  doing.  For  this  Consciousness 
has  no  object  besides  its  opposite,  the  true  Self,  and  its  own 
nothingness.  In  aspiration  it  strives  hence  towards  the  Change- 
less. But  this  aspiration  is  itself  the  Contrite  Consciousness, 
and  contains  forthwith  the  knowledge  of  the  opposite,  namely 
of  its  own  individuality.  The  Changeless,  when  it  enters  con- 
sciousness, is  sicklied  o'er  with  individuality,  is  present  there- 
with ;  instead  of  being  lost  in  the  consciousness  of  the  Change- 
less, individuality  arises  ever  afresh  therein. 

But  one  thing  the  Contrite  Consciousness  thus  learns,  namelf 
that  individuality  is  made  manifest  in  the  Changeless,  and  that 
the  Changeless  is  made  manifest  in  individuality.  It  finds  that 
in  general  individuality  belongs  to  the  changeless  true  Self,  and 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT      617 

•iat  in  fact  its  own  individuality  also  belongs  thereto.  For  the 
outcome  of  this  process  is  precisely  the  unity  Of  this  twofold 
consciousness.  This  unity,  then,  comes  to  light,  but  for  the  first 
only  as  an  unity  wherein  the  diversity  of  the  two  aspects  plays 
the  chief  part.  For  the  Contrite  Consciousness  there  thus  result 
three  ways  hi  which  individuality  and  the  Changeless  are  linked. 
First,  it  rediscovers  itself  as  again  banished  into  its  opposition 
to  the  Changeless  Self;  and  it  is  cast  back  to  the  beginning  of 
the  strife,  which  latter  still  remains  the  element  of  the  entire 
relationship.  In  the  second  place,  the  Contrite  Consciousness 
learns  that  individuality  belongs  to  the  very  essence  of  the 
Changeless,  is  the  incarnation  of  the  Changeless ;  and  the  latter 
hereupon  assumes  the  burden  of  this  whole  range  of  phenom- 
ena. In  the  third  place,  the  Contrite  Consciousness  discovers 
itself  to  be  the  individual  who  dwells  hi  the  Changeless.  In 
the  first  stage  the  Changeless  appears  to  consciousness  only 
as  the  remote  Self,  that  condemns  individuality.  In  passing 
through  the  second  stage,  consciousness  learns  that  the  Change- 
less is  as  much  an  incarnate  individual  as  it  is  itself;  and  thus, 
in  the  third  stage,  consciousness  reaches  the  grade  of  the  Spirit, 
rejoices  to  find  itself  in  the  Spirit,  and  becomes  aware  that  its 
individuality  is  reconciled  with  the  Universal. 

What  is  here  set  forth  as  the  character  and  relationship  of 
the  Changeless  has  appeared  as  the  experience  that  the  divided 
consciousness  obtains  in  its  woe.  This  experience  is  to  be  sure 
hot  its  own  one-sided  process;  for  it  is  itself  the  Changeless 
Consciousness,  and  the  latter  is  also  an  individual  consciousness ; 
so  that  the  process  is  all  the  while  a  process  in  the  Changeless 
Consciousness,  belonging  to  the  latter  quite  as  much  as  to  the 
other.  For  the  Changeless  Consciousness  passes  through  the 
three  stages,  being  first  the  changeless  as  in  general  opposed  to 
the  individual,  then  becoming  an  individual  over  against  an- 
other individual,  and  finally  being  united  with  the  latter.  But 
this  observation,  in  so  far  as  it  is  made  from  our  own  point  of 
view  as  observers,  is  here  premature ;  for  thus  far  we  have  come 
to  know  the  Changeless  only  in  so  far  as  consciousness  has  de- 
nned it.  Not,  as  yet,  the  true  Changeless,  but  the  Changeless 


6i8  HEGEL 

as  modified  by  the  duality  of  consciousness,  has  come  to  our 
sight ;  and  so  we  know  not  how  the  developed  and  self-possessed 
Changeless  will  behave.  What  has  resulted  from  the  foregoing 
is  only  this,  that  the  mentioned  characteristics  appear,  to  the 
consciousness  now  under  consideration,  as  belonging  to  the 
Changeless. 

Consequently  the  Changeless  Consciousness  itself  also  pre- 
serves  even  in  its  incarnate  form  the  character  and  principle  of 
separation  and  isolation  as  against  the  individual  consciousness. 
From  the  latter's  point  of  view,  the  fact  that  the  Changeless 
takes  on  the  form  of  individuality  appears  as  something  which 
somehow  comes  to  pass.  The  opposition  to  the  Changeless  is 
something,  moreover,  which  the  individual  consciousness  merely 
finds  as  a  fact.  The  relation  seems  to  it  merely  a  result  of  its 
natural  constitution.  As  for  the  final  reconciliation,  the  indi- 
vidual consciousness  looks  upon  this  as  in  part  its  own  deed, 
the  result  of  its  own  individuality ;  but  it  also  regards  a  part  of 
the  unity  as  due,  both  in  origin  and  in  existence,  to  the  Change- 
less. The  element  of  opposition  thus  remains  even  in  the  unity. 
In  fact,  in  taking  on  its  incarnate  form,  the  Changeless  has  not 
only  retained  but  actually  confirmed  its  character  of  remoteness. 
For  although,  in  assuming  a  developed  and  incarnate  individu- 
ality, it  seems  on  the  one  hand  to  have  approached  the  individual, 
still,  on  the  other  hand,  it  now  stands  over  against  him  as  an 
opaque  fact  of  sense,  with  all  the  stubbornness  of  the  actual 
about  it.  The  hope  that  the  individual  may  become  one  with 
the  Changeless  must  remain  but  hope,  empty  and  distant ;  for 
between  hope  and  fruition  stand  now  the  fatal  chance  and  the 
lifeless  indifference  which  have  resulted  from  that  very  incar- 
nation wherein  lies  the  foundation  of  the  hope.  Because  the 
Changeless  has  thus  entered  the  world  of  facts,  has  taken  on 
the  garments  of  actuality,  it  follows  necessarily  that  in  the 
world  of  time  it  has  vanished,  that  in  space  it  is  far  away,  and 
forever  far  remains. 

If  at  the  outset  the  mere  notion  of  the  divided  consciousness 
demanded  that  it  should  undertake  the  destruction  of  its  in- 
dividuality, and  the  growth  into  the  Changeless,  the  present 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT      619 

result  defines  the  undertaking  thus :  That  the  individual  should 
leave  off  its  relation  with  the  formless  ideal,  and  should  come 
only  into  relations  with  the  Changeless  as  incarnate.  For  it  is 
now  the  fact  of  the  unity  of  the  individual  and  the  Changeless 
which  has  become  the  truth  and  the  object  for  consciousness, 
as  before,  in  the  mere  notion,  only  the  abstract  and  disem- 
bodied Changeless  was  the  essential  object;  and  consciousness 
now  finds  the  total  separation  of  the  notion  as  the  relation  which 
is  to  be  forgotten.  The  thing  which  has  now  to  be  reduced  to 
unity  is  the  still  external  relation  to  the  embodied  Ideal,  in  so 
far  as  the  latter  is  a  foreign  actuality. 

The  process  whereby  the  unreal  Self  seeks  to  reach  this  unity 
is  once  more  threefold,  since  it  will  be  found  to  have  a  threefold 
relation  to  its  incarnate  but  remote  Ideal.  In  the  first  place  it 
will  appear  as  the  Devout  Consciousness;  in  the  second  place, 
as  an  individual,  whose  relation  to  the  actuality  will  be  one  of 
aspiration  and  of  service;  in  the  third  place  it  will  reach  the 
consciousness  of  self-possession.  We  must  now  follow  these 
three  states  of  being,  to  see  how  they  are  involved  in  the  general 
relation,  and  are  determined  thereby. 

Taking  the  first  state,  that  of  the  Devout  Consciousness,  one 
finds  indeed  that  the  incarnate  Changeless,  as  it  appears  to  this 
consciousness,  seems  to  be  present  in  all  the  completeness  of  its 
being.  But  as  a  fact  the  fashion  of  the  completed  being  of  the 
Changeless  has  not  yet  been  developed.  Should  this  completed 
being  be  revealed  to  consciousness,  the  revelation  would  be,  as 
it  were,  rather  the  deed  of  the  Ideal  than  the  work  of  the  Devout 
Consciousness;  and  thus  the  revelation  would  come  from  one 
side  alone,  would  be  no  full  and  genuine  revelation,  but  would 
remain  burdened  with  incompleteness  and  with  duality. 

Although  the  Contrite  Consciousness  still  lacks  the  presence 
of  its  Ideal,  it  is  nevertheless  as  we  see  [also]  beyond  the  stage 
of  pure  thought,  whether  such  thought  were  the  mere  abstract 
thinking  of  Stoicism,  which  forgets  all  individuality,  or  the 
merely  restless  thinking  of  Scepticism,  which  in  fact  embodies 
individuality  in  its  ignorant  contradictions  and  its  ceaseless 
unrepose.  Both  of  these  stages  the  Contrite  Consciousness  has 


620  HEGEL 

transcended.  It  begins  the  synthesis  of  pure  thought  and  of 
individuality  and  persists  therein.  But  it  has  not  yet  risen  to  the 
thought  which  is  aware  of  the  reconciliation  of  the  conscious 
individual  with  the  demands  of  pure  thought.  The  Contrite 
Consciousness  stands  between  the  two  extremes,  at  the  place 
where  pure  thought  and  the  individual  consciousness  meet.  It 
is  in  fact  itself  this  meeting  place ;  it  is  the  unity  of  pure  thought 
and  individuality.  It  even  knows  that  pure  thought,  yes  the 
Changeless  itself,  is  essentially  individual.  But  what  it  does 
not  know  is  that  this  its  object,  the  Changeless,  which  it  re- 
gards as  having  necessarily  assumed  an  incarnate  individuality, 
is  identical  with  its  own  self,  with  the  very  individual  as  he  is  in 
consciousness. 

Its  attitude  then,  in  this  first  form,  in  which  it  appears  as  the 
Devout  Consciousness,  is  not  one  in  which  it  explicitly  thinks 
about  its  object.  It  is  implicitly  indeed  the  consciousness  of  a 
thinking  individual,  and  its  object  also  is  a  thinking  individual. 
But  the  relation  between  these  two  is  still  one  that  defies  pure 
thought.  Consciousness  accordingly  as  it  were  makes  but  a 
feint  at  thinking,  and  takes  the  form  of  Adoration.  Such  thought 
as  it  has  remains  the  mere  formless  tinkling  of  an  altar  bell,  or 
the  wreathing  of  warm  incense  smoke  —  a  thinking  in  music, 
such  as  never  reaches  an  organized  notion,  wherein  alone  an 
inner  objectivity  could  be  attained.  This  limitless  and  devout 
inner  Feeling  finds  indeed  its  object,  but  as  something  uncom- 
prehended,  and  so  as  a  stranger.  Thus  comes  to  pass  the  in- 
ward activity  of  the  devout  soul,  which  is  indeed  self-conscious, 
but  only  in  so  far  as  it  possesses  the  mere  feeling  of  its  sorrowful 
disharmony.  This  activity  is  one  of  ceaseless  longing.  It  pos- 
sesses the  assurance  that  its  true  Self  is  just  such  a  pure  soul,  - 
pure  thought  in  fact,  taking  on  the  form  of  individuality,  — 
and  that  this  Being,  who  is  the  object  of  the  devotion,  since  he 
possesses  the  thought  of  his  own  individuality,  recognizes  and 
approves  the  worshipper.  But  at  the  same  time  this  Being  is 
the  unapproachable  and  remote.  As  you  seize  hold  upon  him 
he  escapes,  or  rather  he  has  already  gone  away.  He  has  already 
gone  away ;  for  he  is  the  Ideal  giving  himself  in  thought  the  form 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT     621 

of  an  individual  and  therefore  consciousness  gets  without  hin- 
drance its  self -fulfilment  in  him,  —  gets  self-fulfilment,  but  only 
to  learn  that  it  is  the  very  opposite  of  this  Ideal.  Instead  of 
seizing  hold  on  the  true  Self,  its  mere  feeling  is  all.  It  sinks  back 
into  itself.  Unable  at  the  moment  of  union  to  escape  finding 
itself  as  the  very  opposite  of  the  ideal,  it  has  actually  seized  hold 
upon  its  own  untruthfulness,  not  upon  the  truth.  In  the  true 
Self  it  has  sought  to  find  its  own  fulfilment ;  but  its  own  means 
only  its  isolated  individual  reality.  For  the  same  reason  it  can- 
not get  hold  upon  the  true  Self  in  so  far  as  he  is  at  once  an 
individual  and  a  reality.  Where  one  seeks  him,  the  true  Self  is 
not  to  be  found ;  for  by  definition  he  is  the  remote  Self,  and  so 
is  to  be  found  nowhere.  To  seek  him  in  so  far  as  he  is  an  indi- 
vidual is  not  to  look  for  his  universal,  his  ideal  individuality, 
nor  for  his  presence  as  the  law  of  life, *  but  merely  to  seek  him 
as  an  individual  thing,  as  a  fact  amongst  facts, 2  as  something 
that  sense  could  touch  unhindered.  But  as  such  an  object  the 
Ideal  exists  only  as  a  lost  object.  What  consciousness  finds  is 
thus  only  the  sepulchre  of  its  true  life.  But  this  sepulchre  is  now 
the  actuality,  and,  moreover,  one  that  by  its  nature  forbids  any 
abiding  possession;  and  the  presence  of  this  tomb  means  only 
the  strife  of  a  search  that  must  be  fruitless.  But  consciousness 
thus  learns  that  there  is  no  real  sepulchre  which  can  contain  its 
true  Lord,  the  Changeless.  As  Lord  who  has  been  taken  away 
he  is  not  the  true  Lord.  The  Changeless  will  no  longer  be  looked 
for  here  below,  or  grasped  after  as  the  vanished  one.  For  hereby 
consciousness  learns  to  look  for  individuality  as  a  genuine  and 
universal  ideal. 

In  the  next  place  then,  the  return  of  the  soul  to  itself  is  to  be 
defined  as  its  knowledge  that  in  its  own  individuality  it  has 
genuine  being.  It  is  the  pure  heart,  which  potentially,  or  from 
our  point  of  view,  has  discovered  the  secret  of  self-satisfaction. 
For  although  in  feeling  it  is  sundered  from  its  Ideal,  still  this 
feeling  is  in  essence  a  feeling  of  self-possession.  What  has  been 
felt  is  the  Ideal  as  expressed  in  terms  of  pure  feeling ;  and  this 

1  Begriff,  here  paraphrased  to  suit  special  context. 

2  Wirkliches,  here  used  as  equal  to  Seyendes. 


622  HEGEl 

Ideal  is  its  own  very  self.  It  issues  from  the  process  then  as  the 
feeling  of  self-possession,  and  so  as  an  actual  and  independent 
being.  By  this  return  to  itself  it  has,  from  our  point  of  view, 
passed  to  its  second  relationship,  that  of  aspiration  and  service. 
And  in  this  second  stage  consciousness  confirms  itself  in  the 
assurance  of  self-possession  (an  assurance  which  we  now  see  it 
to  have  attained),  by  overcoming  and  feeding  upon  the  true  Self, 
which,  in  so  far  as  it  was  an  independent  thing,  was  estranged. 
From  the  point  of  view  of  the  Contrite  Consciousness,  however, 
all  that  yet  appears  is  the  aspiration  and  the  service.  It  knows 
not  yet  that  in  finding  these  it  has  the  assurance  of  self-possession 
as  the  basis  of  its  existence,  and  that  its  feeling  of  the  true  Self 
is  a  self-possessed  feeling.  Not  knowing  this,  it  has  still  ever 
within  it  the  ^fragmentary  assurance  of  itself.  Therefore  any 
confirmation  which  it  should  receive  from  toiling  and  from 
communion  would  still  be  a  fragmentary  confirmation.  Yes, 
itself  it  must  destroy  even  this  confirmation  also,  finding  therein 
indeed  a  confirmation  of  something,  but  only  of  its  isolation  and 
its  separation. 

The  actual  world  wherein  the  aspiration  and  the  service  find 
their  calling,  seems  to  this  consciousness  no  longer  an  essen- 
tially vain  world,  that  is  only  to  be  destroyed  and  consumed, 
but  rather,  like  the  consciousness  itself,  a  world  broken  in  twain, 
which  is  only  in  one  aspect  vain,  while  in  another  aspect  it  is  a 
sanctified  world,  wherein  the  Changeless  is  incarnate.  For  the 
Changeless  has  retained  the  nature  of  individuality,  and  being, 
as  changeless,  an  Universal,  its  individuality  has  in  general  the 
significance  of  all  actuality. 

If  consciousness  were  now  aware  of  its  independent  person- 
ality, and  if  it  regarded  the  actual  world  as  essentially  vain,  it 
^  would  get  the  feeling  of  its  independence  in  its  service  and  in  its 
communion,  since  it  would  be  aware  of  itself  as  the  victory- that 
overcometh  the  world.  But  because  the  world  is  regarded  by  it 
as  an  embodiment  of  the  ideal,  it  may  not  overcome  by  its  own 
power.  It  does  indeed  attain  to  conquest  over  the  world  and  to 
a  feasting  thereon,  but  to  this  end  it  is  essential  that  the  Change- 
less should  itself  give  its  own  body  as  the  food.  And  in  this  re- 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT     623 

spect  consciousness  appears  as  a  mere  matter  of  fact  having  no 
part  in  the  deed ;  but  it  also  appears  as  inwardly  broken  in  twain, 
and  this  doubleness,  its  division  into  a  Self  that  stands  in  a 
genuine  relation  to  itself)and  to  reality,  and  a  Self  whose  life  is 
hidden  and  undeveloped,  is  now  apparent  in  the  contrast  be- 
tween its  service  and  its  communion.  (As  in  actual  relation  to 
the  world,  consciousness  is  a  doer  of  works,  and  knows  itself  as 
such,  and  this  side  belongs  to  its  individuality^  But  it  has  also 
its  undeveloped  reality.  This  is  hidden  in  the-  true  Self,  and 
consists  in  the  talents  and  virtues  of  the  individual.  They  are  a 
foreign  gift.  The  Changeless  grants  them  to  consciousness  that 
they  may  be  used. 

In  doing  its  good  works,  consciousness  is,  for  the  first,  parted 
into  a  relationship  between  two  extremes.  On  one  side  stands 
the  toiler  in  the  world  here  below ;  on  the  other  side  stands  the 
passive  actuality  in  whose  midst  he  toils.  Both  are  related  to 
each  other ;  both  however  are  also  referred  to  the  Changeless  as 
their  source,  and  have  their  being  hidden  therein.-  From  each 
side,  then,  there  is  but  a  shadowy  image  let  free  to  enter  into 
play  with  the  other ^V  That  term  of  the  relationship  which  is  7* 
called  the  Actuality  is  overcome  by  the  other  term,  the  doer  of 
good  works.  But  the  former  term,  for  its  part,  can  only  be  over- 
come because  its  own  Changeless  Nature  overcomes  it,  divides 
itself  in  twain,  and  gives  over  the  divided  part  to  be  the  material 
for  deeds.  The  power  that  does  the  deeds  appears  as  the  might 
that  overcometh  the  world.  But  for  this  very  reason  the  present 
Consciousness,  which  regards  its  true  Self  as  something  foreign, 
must  regard  this  might  also,  whereby  it  works,  as  a  thing  remote 
from  itself.  Instead  of  winning  self-possession  from  its  good 
works,  and  becoming  thereby  sure  of  itself,  Consciousness  re- 
lates all  this  activity  back  again  to  the  other  member  of  the 
relationship,  which  thus  proves  itself  to  be  the  pure  Universal, 
the  Absolute  Might,  whence  flows  every  form  of  activity,  and 
wherein  lies  the  truth  both  of  the  mutually  dissolving  terms,  as 
they  first  appeared,  and  of  their  interchanging  of  relationship. 

The  Changeless  Consciousness  sacrifices  its  body,  and  gives 
it  over  to  be  used.  On  ths  other  hand  the  individual  conscious- 


624  HEGEL 

ness  renders  thanks  for  the  gift,  forbids  itself  the  satisfaction  of 
a  sense  of  independence,  and  refers  all  its  doings  to  the  Change- 
less. In  these  two  aspects  of  the  mutual  sacrifice  made  by  both 
the  members  of  the  relation,  Consciousness  does  indeed  win  the 
sense  of  its  own  oneness  with  the  Changeless.  But  at  the  same 
time  this  oneness  is  still  beladen  with  the  separation,  and  is 
divided  in  itself.  The  opposition  between  the  Individual  and  the 
Universal  comes  afresh  to  sight.  For  Consciousness  only  seems  to 
resign  selfish  satisfaction.  As  a  fact  it  gets  selfish  satisfaction. 
For  it  still  remains  longing,  activity,  and  fulfilment.  As  Con- 
sciousness it  has  longed,  it  has  acted,  it  has  been  filled.  In  giving 
thanks,  in  acknowledging  the  Other  as  the  true  Self,  in  making 
naught  of  itself,  it  has  still  been  doing  its  own  deed.  This  deed 
has  repaid  the  deed  of  the  Other,  has  rendered  a  price  for  the 
kindly  sacrifice.  If  the  Other  has  offered  its  own  image  as  a 
gift,  consciousness,  for  its  part,  has  made  its  return  in  thanks, 
and  has  herein  done  actually  more  than  the  Other,  since  it  has 
offered  its  All,  namely,  its  good  works,  while  the  Other  has 
but  parted  with  its  mere  image.  The  entire  process  returns  then 
back  to  the  side  of  the  individual,  and  does  so  not  merely  in 
respect  of  the  actual  aspiration,  service,  and  communion,  but 
even  in  respect  of  the  very  act  of  giving  thanks,  an  act  that  was 
to  attain  the  opposite  result.  In  giving  thanks  consciousness  is 
aware  of  itself  as  this  individual,  and  refuses  to  be  deceived  by 
its  own  seeming  resignation.  What  has  resulted  is  only  the  two- 
fold reference  of  the  process  to  its  two  terms ;  and  the  result  is 
the  renewed  division  into  the  conflicting  consciousness  of  the 
Changeless  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  opposed  will,  activity,  and  fulfilment,  and  even 
of  the  very  resignation  itself ;  for  these  constitute  in  general  the 
separated  individuality. 

Herewith  begins  the  third  phase  of  the  process  of  this  con- 
sciousness, which  follows  from  the  second  as  a  consciousness 
that  in  truth,  by  will  and  by  deed,  has  proved  its  independence. 
In  the  first  phase  it  was  the  mere  notion  of  a  live  Consciousness, 
an  inner  life  that  had  not  yet  attained  actuality  by  service  and 
communion.  The  second  phase  was  the  attainment,  as  outer 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT     625 

activity  and  communion.  Returned  from  this  outer  activity, 
consciousness  has  now  reached  the  stage  where  it  has  experi- 
enced its  own  actuality  and  power,  where  it  knows  in  truth 
that  it  is  fully  self-possessed.  But  now  the  enemy  comes  to  light 
in  his  most  genuine  form.  In  the  struggle  of  the  inner  life  the 
individual  had  existence  only  as  an  abstraction,  as  "passed  in 
music  out  of  sight."  In  service  and  in  communion,  as  the  realiza- 
tion of  this  unreal  selfhood,  it  is  able  in  its  immediate  experi- 
ence to  forget  itself,  and  its  consciousness  of  its  own  merit  in 
this  actual  service  is  turned  to  humiliation  through  the  act  of 
thankful  acknowledgment.  But  this  humiliation  is  in  truth  a 
return  of  consciousness  to  itself,  and  to  itself  as  the  possessor  of 
its  own  actuality. 

This  third  relationship,  wherein  this  genuine  actuality  is  to  be 
one  term,  is  that  relationship  of  the  actuality  to  the  Universal, 
wherein  the  actuality  is  nevertheless  to  appear  as  an  Unreality ; 
and  the  process  of  this  relationship  is  still  to  be  considered, 

In  the  first  place,  as  regards  the  conflicting  relationship  of 
consciousness,  wherein  its  own  reality  appears  to  it  as  an  obvious 
nothingness,  the  result  is  that  its  actual  work  seems  to  it  a  doing 
of  naught,  and  its  satisfaction  is  but  a  sense  of  its  misery.  Work 
and  satisfaction  thus  lose  all  universal  content  and  meaning; 
for  if  they  had  any,  then  they  would  involve  a  full  self-possession. 
Both  of  them  sink  to  the  level  of  individuality;  and  conscious- 
ness, turning  upon  this  individuality,  devotes  itself  to  making 
naught  of  it.  Consciousness  of  an  actual  individual  is  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  mere  animal  functions  of  the  body.  These 
latter  are  no  longer  naively  carried  out  as  something  that  is 
altogether  'of  no  moment,  and  that  can  have  no  weight  or  sig- 
nificance for  the  spirit ;  on  the  contrary,  they  become  the  object 
of  earnest  concern,  and  are  of  the  very  weightiest  moment.  The 
enemy  arises  anew  in  his  defeat.  Consciousness  holds  him  in 
eye,  yet  frees  itself  not  from  him,  but  rather  dwells  upon  the 
sight,  and  sees  constantly  its  own  uncleanness.  And  because, 
•at  the  same  time,  this  object  of  its  striving,  instead  of  being  sig- 
nificant, is  of  the  most  contemptible,  instead  of  being  an  uni- 
versal is  of  the  most  individual,  we  therefore  behold  at  this  stage 


626  HEGEL 

only  a  brooding,  unhappy  and  fniserable  personality,  limited 
solely  to  himself  and  his  little  deeds. 

But  all  the  while  this  person  links  both  to  the  sense  of  his 
misery  and  to  the  worthlessness  of  his  deeds,  the  consciousness 
that  he  is  one  with  the  Ideal.  For  the  attempted  direct  destruc- 
tion of  individuality  is  determined  by  the  thought  of  the  Ideal, 
and  takes  place  for  the  sake  of  the  Ideal.  This  relation  of  de- 
pendence constitutes  the  essence  of  the  negative  onslaught  upon 
individuality.  But  the  dependence  is  as  such  potentially  posi- 
tive, and  will  bring  consciousness  to  a  sense  of  its  own  unity. 

This  determinate  dependence  is  the  rational  Tie,  whereby 
the  individual  who  at  first  holds  fast  by  his  opposition  to  the  true 
Self,  is  still  linked  to  the  other  term,  yet  only  by  means  of  a 
third  element.  This  mediating  element  reveals  the  true  Self  to 
the  false  Self,  which  in  its  turn  knows  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  true 
Self  it  has  existence  only  by  virtue  of  the  dependence.  It  is  the 
dependence  then  which  reveals  the  two  terms  of  the  relation- 
ship to  one  another,  and  which,  as  Mediator,  takes  the  part  of 
each  one  of  the  terms  in  presence  of  the  other.  The  Mediator 
too  is  a  conscious  Being,  for  its  work  is  the  production  of  this 
consciousness  as  such.  What  it  brings  to  pass  is  that  overcoming 
of  individuality  which  consciousness  is  undertaking. 

Through  the  Mediator,  then,  Consciousness  frees  itself  from 
regarding  its  good  works  and  its  communion  as  due  to  its  private 
merit.  It  rejects  all  claim  to  independence  of  will.  It  casts  upon 
the  Mediator,  the  intercessor,  the  burden  of  its  self-will,  its 
freedom  of  choice,  and  its  sins.  The  Mediator,  dwelling  in  the 
immediate  presence  of  the  Ideal,  gives  counsel  as  to  what  is  to 
be  done.  And  what  is  done,  being  in  submission  to  the  will  of 
another,  is  no  longer  one's  own  act.  What  is  still  left  to  the 
untrue  Self  is  the  objective  result  of  the  deed,  the  fruit  of  the 
toil,  the  satisfaction.  But  this  too  it  refuses  to  accept  as  its  own, 
and  resigns  not  only  its  self-will,  but  the  actual  outcome  of  its 
service  and  its  satisfaction.  It  resigns  this  outcome,  first,  because 
the  latter  would  involve  an  attainment  of  self-conscious  truth 
and  independence  (and  this  consciousness  lives  in  the  thought 
and  the  speech  of  a  strange  and  incomprehensible  mystery). 


PHENOMENOLOGY  OF  THE  SPIRIT     627 

Secondly,  moreover,  it  resigns  the  outcome  in  so 'far  as  the  latter 
consists  of  worldly  goods,  and  so  it  abandons,  in  a  measure, 
whatever  it  has  earned  by  its  labor.  Thirdly,  it  resigns  all  the 
satisfaction  which  has  fallen  to  its  lot,  forbidding  itself  such 
satisfaction  through  fasting  and  through  penance. 

By  these  characteristics,  by  the  surrender  of  self-will,  of 
property,  and  of  satisfaction,  and  by  the  further  and  positive 
characteristic  of  its  undertaking  of  a  mysterious  task,  conscious- 
ness does  in  truth  (tree  itsel|/completely  from  any  sense  of  inner 
or  outer  freedom,  from  any  trust  in  the  reality  of  its  independ- 
ence. It  is  sure  that  it  has  verily  surrendered  its  Ego,  and  has 
reduced  its  natural  self-consciousness  to  a  mere  thing,  to  a  fact 
amongst  facts.  Only  by  such  a  genuine  self-surrender  could 
consciousness  prove  its  own  resignation.  For  only  thus  does 
there  vanish  the  deceit  that  lies  in  the  inner  offering  of  thanks 
with  the  heart,  with  the  sentiments,  with  the  lips.  Such  offering 
does  indeed  strip  from  the  individual  all  independent  might, 
and  ascribes  all  the  glory  to  the  heavenly  Giver.  But  the  indi- 
vidual even  when  thus  stripped,  retains  his  outer  self-will,  for 
he  abandons  not  his  possessions ;  and  he  retains  his  inner  self- 
will,  for  he  is  aware  that  it  is  he  who  undertakes  this  self-sacrifice, 
and  who  has  in  himself  the  virtue  involved  in  such  an  under- 
taking, —  a  virtue  which  he  has  not  exchanged  for  the  mysterious 
grace  that  cometh  from  above. 

But  in  the  genuine  resignation,  when  once  it  has  come  to  pass, 
consciousness,  in  laying  aside  the  burden  of  its  own  deeds,  has 
also,  in  effect,  laid  aside  the  burden  of  its  grief.  Yet  that  this 
laying  aside  has  already,  in  effect,  taken  place,  is  due  to  the 
deed  of  the  other  member  of  the  Tie,  namely  to  the  essential 
Self.  The  sacrifice  of  the  unreal  Self  was  made  not  by  its  own 
one-sided  act,  but  involved  the  working  of  the  Other's  grace. 
For  the  resignation  of  self-will  is  only  in  part  negative,  and  on 
the  other  hand  involves  in  its  very  notion,  or  in  its  beginning, 
the  positive  transformation  of  the  will,  and,  in  particular,  its 
transformation  from  an  individual  into  an  universal  will.  Con- 
sciousness finds  this  positive  meaning  of  the  denial  of  self-will 
to  consist  in  the  will  of  the  Changeless,  as  this  will  is  done,  not 


628  HEGEL 

by  consciousness  itself,  but  through  the  counsel  of  the  Mediator. 
Consciousness  becomes  aware,  then,  that  its  will  is  universal 
and  essential,  but  it  does  not  regard  itself  as  identical  with  this 
essential  nature.  Self-resignation  is  not  seen  to  be  in  its  very 
notion  identical  with  the  positive  work  of  the  universal  will. 
In  the  same  way  the  abandonment  of  possession  and  of  satis- 
faction has  only  the  same  negative  significance,  and  the  uni- 
versal that  thus  comes  in  sight  does  not  appear  to  consciousness 
as  its  own  deed.  The  unity  of  truth  and  of  self-possession  im- 
plied in  the  notion  of  this  activity,  an  unity  which  consciousness 
accordingly  regards  as  its  essence  and  its  reality,  is  not  recog- 
nized as  implied  in  this  very  notion*  Nor  is  the  unity  recognized 
by  consciousness  as  its  own  self-created  and  immediately  pos- 
sessed object.  Rather  does  consciousness  only  hear,  spoken  by 
the  mediator's  voice,  the  still  fragile  assurance  that  its  own  grief 
is,  in  the  yet  hidden  truth  of  the  matter,  the  very  reverse,  namely 
the  bliss  of  an  activity  which  rejoices  in  its  tasks,  that  its  own 
miserable  deeds  are,  in  the  same  hidden  truth,  the  perfect  work. 
And  the  real  meaning  of  this  assurance  is  that  only  what  is  done 
by  an  individual  is  or  can  be  [ueberhaupt]  a  deed.  But  for  con- 
sciousness both  activity  and  its  own  actual  deeds  remain  mis- 
erable. Its  satisfaction  is  its  sorrow,  and  the  freedom  from  this 
sorrow,  in  a  positive  joy,  it  looks  for  in  another  world.  But  this 
other  world,  where  its  activity  and  its  being  are  to  become, 
even  while  they  remain  its  own,  real  activity  and  being,  —  what 
is  this  world  but  the  image  of  REASON,  —  of  the  assurance  of 
Consciousness  that  in  its  individuality  it  is  and  possesses  all 
Reality? 


ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

(1788-1860) 

THE  WORLD  AS  WILL  AND  IDEA 

Translated  from  the  German  *  by 
R.   B.   HALDANE  and  J.   KEMP 

BOOK  I.    THE   WORLD   AS  IDEA 

§  i.  "THE  world  is  my  idea:" — this  is  a  truth  which  holds 
good  for  everything  that  lives  and  knows,  though  man  alone 
can  bring  it  into  reflective  and  abstract  consciousness.  If  he 
really  does  this,  he  has  attained  to  philosophical  wisdom.  It 
then  becomes  clear  and  certain  to  him  that  what  he  knows  is  not 
a  sun  and  an  earth,  but  only  an  eye  that  sees  a  sun,  a  hand  that 
feels  an  earth ;  that  the  world  which  surrounds  him  is  there  only 
as  idea,  I.  e.,  only  in  relation  to  something  else,  the  consciousness, 
which  is  himself.  If  any  truth  can  be  asserted  a  priori,  it  is  this : 
for  it  is  the  expression  of  the  most  general  form  of  all  possible 
and  thinkable  experience:  a  form  which  is  more  general  than 
time,  or  space,  or  causality,  for  they  avll  presuppose  it ;  and  each 
of  these,  which  we  have  seen  to  be  just  so  many  modes  of  the 
principle  of  sufficient  reason,  is  valid  only  for  a  particular  class 
of  ideas;  whereas  the  antithesis  of  object  and  subject  is  the 
common  form  of  all  these  classes,  is  that  form  under  which  alone 
any  idea  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  abstract  or  intuitive,  pure 
or  empirical,  is  possible  and  thinkable.  No  truth  therefore  is 
more  certain,  more  independent  of  all  others,  and  less  in  need 
of  proof  than  this,  that  all  that  exists  for  knowledge,  and  there- 
fore this  whole  world,  is  only  object  in  relation  to  subject,  per- 
ception of  a  perceiver,  in  a  word,  idea.  This  is  obviously  true 
of  the  past  and  the  future,  as  well  as  of  the  present,  of  what  is 
farthest  off,  as  of  what  is  near;  for  it  is  true  of  time  and  space 

*  From  Die  Welt  als  Willeund  Vorstellung,  Leipzig,  1819  ;  3.  Aufl.  1859.  Re- 
printed here  from  A.  Schopenhauer's  The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,  translated  by 
R.  B.  Haldane  and  J.  Kemp,  London,  Triibner  &  Co.,  1883,  vol.  i. 


630  ARTHUR    SCHOPENHAUER 

themselves,  in  which  alone  these  distinctions  arise.  All  that  in 
any  way  belongs  or  can'  belong  to  the  world  is  inevitably  thus 
conditioned  through  the  subject,  and  exists  only  for  the  subject. 
The  world  is  idea. 

This  truth  is  by  no  means  new.  It  was  implicitly  involved 
in  the  sceptical  reflections  from  which  Descartes  started.  Berke- 
ley, however,  was  the  first  who  distinctly  enunciated  it,  -and  by 
this  he  has  rendered  a  permanent  service  to  philosophy,  even 
though  the  rest^of  his  teaching  should  not  endure.  Kant's  pri- 
mary mistake  was  the  neglect  of  this  principle,  as  is  shown  in  the 
appendix.  How  early  again  this  truth  was  recognised  by  the 
wise  men  of  India,  appearing  indeed  as  the  fundamental  tenet 
of  the  Vedanta  philosophy  ascribed  to  Vyasa,  is  pointed  out  by 
Sir  William  Jones  in  the  last  of  his  essays :  On  the  Philosophy 
of  the  Asiatics  ("  Asiatic  Researches,  "  vol.  iv,  p.  164),  where  he 
says,  "The  fundamental  tenet  of  the  Vedanta  school  consisted 
not  in  denying  the  existence  of  matter,  that  is,  of  solidity,  im- 
penetrability, and  extended  figure  (to  deny  which  would  be 
lunacy),  but  in  correcting  the  popular  notion  of  it,  and  in  con- 
tending that  it  has  no  essence  independent  of  mental  perception ; 
that  existence  and  perceptibility  are  convertible  terms."  These 
words  adequately  express  the  compatibility  of  empirical  reality 
and  transcendental  ideality. 

In  this  first  book,  then,  we  consider  the  world  only  from  this 
side,  only  so  far  as  it  is  idea.  The  inward  reluctance  with  which 
any  one  accepts  the  world  as  merely  his  idea,  warns  him  that 
this  view  of  it,  however  true  it  may  be,  is  nevertheless  one-sided, 
adopted  in  consequence  of  some  arbitrary  abstraction.  And  yet 
it  is  a  conception  from  which  he  can  never  free  himself.  The 
defectiveness  of  this  view  will  be  corrected  in  the  next  book  by 
means  of  a  truth  which  is  not  so  immediately  certain  as  that 
from  which  we  start  here ;  a  truth  at  which  we  can  arrive  only 
by  deeper  research  and  more  severe  abstraction,  by  the  separa- 
tion of  what  is  different  and  the  union  of  what  is  identical.  This 
truth,  which  must  be  very  serious  and  impressive  if  not  awful 
to  every  one,  is  that  a  man  can  also  say  and  must  say,  "  The 
world  is  my  will." 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA      631 

In  this  book,  however,  we  must  consider  separately  that  as- 
pect of  the  world  from  which  we  start,  its  aspect  as  knowable, 
and  therefore,  in  the  meantime,  we  must,  without  reserve,  re- 
gard all  presented  objects,  even  our  own  bodies  (as*  we  shall 
presently  show  more  fully),  merely  as  ideas,  and  call  them 
merely  ideas.  By  so  doing  we  always  abstract  from  will  (as  we 
hope  to  make  clear  to  every  one  further  on),  which  by  itself  con- 
stitutes the  other  aspect  of  the  world.  For  as  the  world  is  ih  one 
aspect  entirely  idea,  so  in  another  it  is  entirely  will.  A  reality 
which  is  neither  of  these  two,  but  an  object  in  itself  (into  which 
the  thing  in  itself  has  unfortunately  dwindled  in  the  hands  of 
Kant),  is  the  phantom  of  a  dream,  and  its  acceptance  is  an  ignis 
jatuus  in  philosophy. 

§  2.  That  which  knows  all  things  and  is  known  by  none  is 
the  subject.  Thus  it  is  the  supporter  of  the  world,  that  condition 
of  all  phenomena,  of  all  objects  which  is  always  presupposed 
throughout  experience ;  for  all  that  exists,  exists  only  for  the 
subject.  Every  one  finds  himself  to  be  subject,  yet  only  hi  so 
far  as  he  knows,  not  in  so  far  as  he  is  an  object  of  knowledge. 
But  his  body  is  object,  and  therefore  from  this  point  of  view  we 
call  it  idea.  For  the  body  is  an  object  among  objects  and  is  con- 
ditioned by  the  laws  of  objects,  although  it  is  an  immediate 
object.  Like  all  objects  of  perception,  it  lies  within  the  universal 
forms  of  knowledge,  time  and  space,  which  are  the  conditions 
of  multiplicity.  The  subject,  on  the  contrary,  which  is  always 
the  knower,  never  the  known,  does  not  come  under  these  forms, 
but  is  presupposed  by  them ;  it  has  therefore  neither  multiplicity 
nor  its  opposite  unity.  We  never  know  it,  but  it  is  always  the 
knower  wherever  there  is  knowledge. 

So  then  the  world  as  idea,  the  only  aspect  in  which  we  con- 
sider it  at  present,  has  two  fundamental,  necessary,  and  insep- 
arable halves.  The  one  half  is  the  object,  the  forms  of  which 
are  space  and  time,  and  through  these  multiplicity.  The  other 
half  is  the  subject,  which  is  not  in  space  and  time,  for  it  is  pre- 
sent, entire  and  undivided,  in  every  percipient  being.  So  that 
any  one  percipient  being,  with  the  object,  constitutes  the  whole 
world  as  idea  just  as  fully  as  the  existing  millions  could  do ;  but 


632  ARTHUR    SCHOPENHAUER 

if  this  one  were  to  disappear,  then  the  whole  world  as  idea  would 
cease  to  be.  These  halves  are  therefore  inseparable  even  for 
thought,  for  each  of  the  two  has  meaning  and  existence  only 
through  and  for  the  other,  each  appears  with  the  other  and  van- 
ishes with  it.  They  limit  each  other  immediately;  where  the 
object  begins  the  subject  ends.  The  universality  of  this  limita- 
tion is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the-  essential  and  hence  universal 
forms  of  all  objects,  space,  time,  and  causality,  may,  without 
knowledge  of  the  object,  be  discovered  and  fully  known  from  a 
consideration  of  the  subject,  i.  e.,  in  Kantian  language,  they  lie 
a  priori  in  our  consciousness.  That  he  discovered  this  is  one  of 
Kant's  principal  merits,  and  it  is  a  great  one.  I  however  go  be- 
yond this,  and  maintain  that  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason 
is  the  general  expression  for  all  these  forms  of  the  object  of  which 
we  are  a  priori  conscious;  and  that  therefore  all  that  we  know 
purely  a  priori,  is  merely  the  content  of  that  principle  and  what 
follows  from  it;  in  it  all  our  certain  a  priori  knowledge  is  ex- 
pressed. In  my  essay  on  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  I  have 
shown  in  detail  how  every  possible  object  comes  under  it ;  that 
is,  stands  in  a  necessary  relation  to  other  objects,  on  the  one  side 
as  determined,  on  the  other  side  as  determining:  this  is  of  such 
wide  application,  that  the  whole  existence  of  all  objects,  so  far 
as  they  are  objects,  ideas  and  nothing  more,  may  be  entirely 
traced  to  this  their  necessary  relation  to  each  other,  rests  only 
in  it,  is  in  fact  merely  relative;  but  of  this  more  presently.  I 
have  further  shown,  that  the  necessary  relation  which  the  prin- 
ciple of  sufficient  reason  expresses  generally,  appears  in  other 
forms  corresponding  to  the  classes  into  which  objects  are  divided, 
according  to  their  possibility ;  and  again  that  by  these  forms  the 
proper  division  of  the  classes  is  tested.  I  take  it  for  granted  that 
what  I  said  in  this  earlier  essay  is  known  and  present  to  the 
reader,  for  if  it  had  not  been  already  said  it  would  necessarily 
find  its  place  here. 

§  5.  It  is  needful  to  guard  against  the  grave  error  of  sup- 
posing that  because  perception  arises  through  the  knowledge 
of  causality,  the  relation  of  subject  and  object  is  that  of  cause 
and  effect.  For  this  relation  subsists  only  between  the  immediate 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     633 

object  and  objects  known  indirectly,  thus  always  between  ob- 
jects alone.  It  is  this  false  supposition  that  has  given  rise  to  the 
foolish  controversy  about  the  reality  of  the  outer  world ;  a  con- 
troversy in  which  dogmatism  and  scepticism  oppose  each  other, 
and  the  former  appears,  now  as  realism,  now  as  idealism.  Real- 
ism treats  the  object  as  cause,  and  the  subject  as  its  effect.  The 
idealism  of  Fichte  reduces  the  object  to  the  effect  of  the  subject. 
Since  however,  and  this  cannot  be  too  much  emphasised,  there 
is  absolutely  no  relation  according  to  the  principle  of  sufficient 
reason  between  subject  and  object,  neither  of  these  views  could 
be  proved,  and  therefore  scepticism  attacked  them  both  with 
success.  Now,  just  as  the  law  of  causality  precedes  perception 
and  experience  as  their  condition,  and  therefore  cannot  (as 
Hume  thought)  be  derived  from  them,  so  object  and  subject 
precede  all  knowledge,  and  hence  the  principle  of  sufficient 
reason  in  general,  as  its  first  condition ;  for  this  principle  is  merely 
the  form  of  all  objects,  the  whole  nature  and  possibility  of  their 
existence  as  phenomena:  but  the  object  always  presupposes 
the  subject;  and  therefore  between  these  two  there  can  be  no 
relation  of  reason  and  consequent.  My  essay  *  on  the  principle 
of  sufficient  reason  accomplishes  just  this :  it  explains  the  content 
of  that  principle  as  the  essential  form  of  every  object  —  that  is 
to  say,  as  the  universal  nature  of  all  objective  existence,  as  some- 
thing which  pertains  to  the  object  as  such;  but  the  object  as 
such  always  presupposes  the  subject  as  its  necessary  correlative ; 
and  therefore  the  subject  remains  always  outside  the  province 
in  which  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  is  valid.  The  con- 
troversy as  to  the  reality  of  the  outer  world  rests  upon  this  false 
extension  of  the  validity  of  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  to 
the  subject  also,  and  starting  with  this  mistake  it  can  never 
understand  itself.  On  the  one  side  realistic  dogmatism,  looking 
upon  the  idea  as  the  effect  of  the  object,  desires  to  separate  these 
two,  idea  and  object,  which  are  really  one,  and  to  assume  a  cause 


*  Ueber  die  vierfache  Wurzel  des  Satzes  vom  Zureichenden  Grunde.  Rudolst. 
1813.  English,  Two  Essays  by  Schopenhauer:  I.  On  the  Fourfold  Root  of  the 
Principle  of  Sufficient  Reason;  II.  On  the  Will  of  Nature.  A  literal  translation, 
London,  1889. 


634  ARTHUR    SCHOPENHAUER 


different  from  the  idea,  an  object  in  itself,  independent  of 
the  subject,  a  thing  which  is  quite  inconceivable;  for  even  as 
object  it  presupposes  subject,  and  so  remains  its  idea.  Opposed 
to  this  doctrine  is  scepticism,  which  makes  the  same  false  pre- 
supposition that  in  the  idea  we  have  only  the  effect,  never  the 
cause,  therefore  never  real  being;  that  we  always  know  merely 
the  action  of  the  object.  But  this  object,  it  supposes,  may  per- 
haps have  no  resemblance  whatever  to  its  effect,  may  indeed 
have  been  quite  erroneously  received  as  the  cause,  for  the  law 
of  causality  is  first  to  be  gathered  from  experience,  and  the 
reality  of  experience  is  then  made  to  rest  upon  it.  Thus  both  of 
these  views  are  open  to  the  correction,  firstly,  that  object  and 
idea  are  the  same  ;  secondly,  that  the  true  being  of  the  object  of 
perception  is  its  action,  that  the  reality  of  the  thing  consists  in 
this,  and  the  demand  for  an  existence  of  the  object  outside  the 
idea  of  the  subject,  and  also  for  an  essence  of  the  actual  thing 
different  from  its  action,  has  absolutely  no  meaning,  and  is 
contradiction  :  and  that  the  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  effect 
of  any  perceived  object,  exhausts  such  an  object  itself,  so  far  as 
it  is  object,  i.  e.,  idea,  for  beyond  this  there  is  nothing  more  to 
be  known.  So  far  then,  the  perceived  world  in  space  and  time, 
which  makes  itself  known  as  causation  alone,  is  entirely  real, 
and  is  throughout  simply  what  it  appears  to  be,  and  it  appears 
wholly  and  without  reserve  as  idea,  bound  together  according 
to  the  law  of  causality.  This  is  its  empirical  reality.  On  the 
other  hand,  all  causality  is  in  the  understanding  alone,  and  for 
the  understanding.  The  whole  actual,  that  is,  active  world  is 
determined  as  such  through  the  understanding,  and  apart  from 
it  is  nothing.  This,  however,  is  not  the  only  reason  for  altogether 
denying  such  a  reality  of  the  outer  world  as  is  taught  by  the  dog- 
matist, who  explains  its  reality  as  its  independence  of  the  subject. 
We  also  deny  it,  because  no  object  apart  from  a  subject  can  be 
conceived  without  contradiction.  The  whole  world  of  objects 
is  and  remains  idea,  and  therefore  wholly  and  for  ever  deter- 
mined by  the  subject  ;  that  is  to  say,  it  has  transcendental  ideal- 
ity. But  it  is  not  therefore  illusion  or  mere  appearance  ;  it  pre- 
sents itself  as  that  which  it  is,  idea,  and  indeed  as  a  series  of  ideas 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     635 

of  which  the  common  bond  is  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason. 
It  is  according  to  its  inmost  meaning  quite  comprehensible  to 
the  healthy  understanding,  and  speaks  a  language  quite  intelli- 
gible to  it.  To  dispute  about  its  reality  can  only  occur  to  a  mind 
perverted  by  over-subtilty,  and  such  discussion  always  arises 
from  a  false  application  of  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason, 
which  binds  all  ideas  together  of  whatever  kind  they  may  be, 
but  by  no  means  connects  them  with  the  subject,  nor  yet  with 
a  something  which  is  neither  subject  nor  object,  but  only  the 
ground  of  the  object ;  an  absurdity,  for  only  objects  can  be  and 
always  are  the  ground  of  objects.  If  we  examine  more  closely 
the  source  of  this  question  as  to  the  reality  of  the  outer  world, 
we  find  that  besides  the  false  application  of  the  principle  of 
sufficient  reason  generally  to  what  lies  beyond  its  province,  a 
special  confusion  of  its  forms  is  also  involved;  for  that  form 
which  it  has  only  in  reference  to  concepts  or  abstract  ideas,  is 
applied  to  perceived  ideas,  real  objects ;  and  a  ground  of  know- 
ing is  demanded  of  objects,  whereas  they  can  have  nothing  but  a 
ground  of  being.  Among  the  abstract  ideas,  the  concepts  united 
in  the  judgment,  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  appears  in 
such  a  way  that  each  of  these  has  its  worth,  its  validity,  and  its 
whole  existence,  here  called  truth,  simply  and  solely  through 
the  relation  of  the  judgment  to  something  outside  of  it,  its 
ground  of  knowledge,  to  which  there  must  consequently  always 
be  a  return.  Among  real  objects,  ideas  of  perception,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  appears  not  as  the 
principle  of  the  ground  of  knowing,  but  of  being,  as  the  law  of 
causality :  every  real  object  has  paid  its  debt  to  it,  inasmuch  as 
it  has  come  to  be,  i.  e.,  has  appeared  as  the  effect  of  a  cause. 
The  demand  for  a  ground  of  knowing  has  therefore  here  no 
application  and  no  meaning,  but  belongs  to  quite  another  class 
of  things.  Thus  the  world  of  perception  raises  in  the  observer 
no  question  or  doubt  so  long  as  he  remains  in  contact  with  it : 
there  is  here  neither  error  nor  truth,  for  these  are  confined  to 
the  province  of  the  abstract  —  the  province  of  reflection.  But 
here  the  world  lies  open  for  sense  and  understanding;  presents 
itself  with  naive  truth  as  that  which  it  really  is  —  ideas  of  per- 


636  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

ception  which  develop  themselves  according  to  the  law  of  caus- 
ality. 

So  far  as  we  have  considered  the  question  of  the  reality  of  the 
outer  world,  it  arises  from  a  confusion  which  amounts  even  to  a 
misunderstanding  of  reason  itself,  and  therefore  thus  far,  the 
question  could  be  answered  only  by  explaining  its  meaning. 
After  examination  of  the  whole  nature  of  the  principle  of  suffi- 
cient reason,  of  the  relation  of  subject  and  object,  and  the  special 
conditions  of  sense  perception,  the  question  itself  disappeared 
because  it  had  no  longer  any  meaning.  There  is,  however,  one 
other  possible  origin  of  this  question,  quite  different  from  the 
purely  speculative  one  which  we  have  considered,  a  specially 
empirical  origin,  though  the  question  is  always  raised  from  a 
speculative  point  of  view,  and  in  this  form  it  has  a  much  more 
comprehensible  meaning  than  it  had  in  the  first.  We  have 
dreams ;  may  not  our  whole  life  be  a  dream  ?  or  more  exactly : 
is  there  a  sure  criterion  of  the  distinction  between  dreams  and 
reality?  between  phantasms  and  real  objects?  The  assertion 
that  what  is  dreamt  is  less  vivid  and  distinct  than  what  we  ac- 
tually perceive  is  not  to  the  point,  because  no  one  has  ever  been 
able  to  make  a  fair  comparison  of  the  two ;  for  we  can  only  com- 
pare the  recollection  of  a  dream  with  the  present  reality.  Kant 
answers  the  question  thus:  "The  connection  of  ideas  among 
themselves,  according  to  the  law  of  causality,  constitutes  the 
difference  between  real  life  and  dreams."  But  in  dreams,  as 
well  as  in  real  life,  everything  is  connected  individually  at  any 
rate,  in  accordance  with  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  in  all 
its  forms,  and  this  connection  is  broken  only  between  life  and 
dreams,  or  between  one  dream  and  another.  Kant's  answer 
therefore  could  only  run  thus :  —  the  long  dream  (life)  has 
throughout  complete  connection  according  to  the  principle  of 
sufficient  reason ;  it  has  not  this  connection,  however,  with  short 
dreams,  although  each  of  these  has  in  itself  the  same  connection : 
the  bridge  is  therefore  broken  between  the  former  and  the  latter, 
and  on  this  account  we  distinguish  them. 

But  to  institute  an  enquiry  according  to  this  criterion,  as  to 
whether  something  was  dreamt  or  seen,  would  always  be  dim- 


THE   WORLD   AS    WILL   AND    IDEA     637 

cult  and  often  impossible.  For  we  are  by  no  means  in  a  position 
to  trace  link  by  link  the  causal  connection  between  any  expe- 
rienced event  and  the  present  moment,  but  we  do  not  on  that 
account  explain  it  as  dreamt.  Therefore  in  real  life  we  do  not 
commonly  employ  that  method  of  distinguishing  between  dreams 
and  reality.  The  only  sure  criterion  by  which  to  distinguish 
them  is  in  fact  the  entirely  empirical  one  of  awaking,  through 
which  at  any  rate  the  causal  connection  between  dreamed  events 
and  those  of  waking  life,  is  distinctly  and  sensibly  broken  off. 
This  is  strongly  supported  by  the  remark  of  Hobbes  in  the  second 
chapter  of  Leviathan,  that  we  easily  mistake  dreams  for  reality 
if  we  have  unintentionally  fallen  asleep  without  taking  off  our 
clothes,  and  much  more  so  when  it  also  happens  that  some 
undertaking  or  design  fills  all  our  thoughts,  and  occupies  our 
dream's  as  well  as  our  waking  moments.  We  then  observe  the 
awaking  just  as  little  as  the  falling  asleep,  dream  and  reality 
run  together  and  become  confounded.  In  such  a  case  there  is 
nothing  for  it  but  the  application  of  Kant's  criterion;  but  if,  as 
often  happens,  we  fail  to  establish  by  means  of  this  criterion, 
either  the  existence  of  causal  connection  with  the  present,  or 
the  absence  of  such  connection,  then  it  must  for  ever  remain 
uncertain  whether  an  event  was  dreamt  or  really  happened. 
Here,  in  fact,  the  intimate  relationship  between  life  and  dreams 
is  brought  out  very  clearly,  and  we  need  not  be  ashamed  to  con- 
fess it,  as  it  has  been  recognised  and  spoken  of  by  many  great 
men.  The  Vedas  and  Puranas  have  no  better  simile  than  a 
dream  for  the  whole  knowledge  of  the  actual  world,  which  they 
call  the  web  of  Maya,  and  they  use  none  more  frequently.  Plato 
often  says  that  men  live  only  in  a  dream  ;  the  philosopher  alone 
strives  to  awake  himself.  Pindar  says  (ii.  •>?.  135)  :  <r/aas  ovap  a 
TTO<:  (umbrae  somnium  homo),  and  Sophocles:  — 


'Opa>  yap  ^uos  ovficv  ovras  &\\o,  ir\}]v 

'  ocronrep  CoD/iey,  %  Koixpyv  <TKIO.V.  —  Ajax,  125. 


(Nos  enim,  quicunque  vivimus,  nihil  aliud  esse  comperio  quam 
simulacra  et  levem  umbram.)  Beside  which  most  worthily 
stands  Shakespeare  :  — 


638  ARTHUR    SCHOPENHAUER 

"We  are  such  stuff 

As  dreams  are  made  on,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep."  —  Tempest,  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Lastly,  Calderon  was  so  deeply  impressed  with  this  view  of  life 
that  he  sought  to  embody  it  in  a  kind  of  metaphysical  drama  — 
"Life  a  Dream." 

After  these  numerous  quotations  from  the  poets,  perhaps  I 
also  may  be  allowed  to  express  myself  by  a  metaphor.  Life  and 
dreams  are  leaves  of  the  same  book.  The  systematic  reading 
of  this  book  is  real  life,  but  when  the  reading  hours  (that  is,  the 
day)  are  over,  we  often  continue  idly  to  turn  over  the  leaves, 
and  read  a  page  here  and  there  without  method  or  connection : 
often  one  we  have  read  before,  sometimes  one  that  is  new  to  us, 
but  always  in  the  same  book.  Such  an  isolated  page  is  indeed 
out  of  connection  with  the  systematic  study  of  the  book,  but  it 
does  not  seem  so  very  different  when  we  remember  that  the 
whole  continuous  perusal  begins  and  ends  just  as  abruptly,  and 
may  therefore  be  regarded  as  merely  a  larger  single  page. 

Thus  although  individual  dreams  are  distinguished  from  real 
life  by  the  fact  that  they  do  not  fit  into  that  continuity  which  runs 
through  the  whole  of  experience,  and  the  act  of  awraking  brings 
this  into  consciousness,  yet  that  very  continuity  of  experience 
belongs  to  real  life  as  its  form,  and  the  dream  on  its  part  can 
point  to  a  similar  continuity  in  itself.  If,  therefore,  we  consider 
the  question  from  a  point  of  view  external  to  both,  there  is  no 
distinct  difference  in  their  nature,  and  we  are  forced  to  concede 
to  the  poets  that  life  is  a  long  dream. 

Let  us  turn  back  now  from  this  quite  independent  empirical 
origin  of  the  question  of  the  reality  of  the  outer  world,  to  its 
speculative  origin.  We  found  that  this  consisted,  first,  in  the 
false  application  of  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  to  the  rela- 
tion of  subject  and  object ;  and  secondly,  in  the  confusion  of  its 
forms,  inasmuch  as  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  of  knowing 
was  extended  to  a  province  in  which  the  principle  of  sufficient 
reason  of  being  is  valid.  But  the  question  could  hardly  have 
occupied  philosophers  so  constantly  if  it  were  entirely  devoid 
of  all  real  content,  and  if  some  true  thought  and  meaning  did 


THE   WORLD   AS    WILL   AND    IDEA     639 

not  lie  at  its  heart  as  its  real  source.  Accordingly,  we  must  as- 
sume that  when  the  element  of  truth  that  lies  at  the  bottom  of 
the  question  first  came  into  reflection  and  sought  its  expression, 
it  became  involved  in  these  confused  and  meaningless  forms 
and  problems.  This  at  least  is  my  opinion,  and  I  think  that  the 
true  expression  of  that  inmost  meaning  of  the  question,  which 
it  failed  to  find,  is  this :  — What  is  this  world  of  perception  be- 
sides being  my  idea?  Is  that  of  which  I  am  conscious  only  as 
idea,  exactly  like  my  own  body,  of  which  I  am  doubly  conscious, 
in  one  aspect  as  idea,  in  another  aspect  as  will  ?  The  fuller  ex- 
planation of  this  question  and  its  answer  in  the  affirmative,  will 
form  the  content  of  the  second  book,  and  its  consequences  will 
occupy  the  remaining  portion  of  this  work. 


BOOK    II.    THE    OBJECTIFICATION    OF    THE 

WILL 

§  17.  ...  What  now  impels  us  to  inquiry  is,  that  we  are  not 
satisfied  with  knowing  that  we  have  ideas,  that  they  are  such 
and  such,  and  that  they  are  connected  according  to  certain  laws, 
the  general  expression  of  which  is  the  principle  of  sufficient  rea- 
son. We  wish  to  know  the  significance  of  these  ideas ;  we  ask 
whether  this  world  is  merely  idea;  in  which  case  it  would  pass 
by  us  like  an  empty  dream  or  a  baseless  vision,  not  worth  our 
notice ;  or  whether  it  is  also  something  else,  something  more  than 
idea,  and  if  so,  what.  Thus  much  is  certain,  that  this  something 
we  seek  for  must  be  completely  and  in  its  whole  nature  different 
from  the  idea ;  that  the  forms  and  laws  of  the  idea  must  therefore 
be  completely  foreign  to  it ;  further,  that  we  cannot  arrive  at  it 
from  the  idea  under  the  guidance  of  the  laws  which  merely  com- 
bine objects,  ideas,  among  themselves,  and  which  are  the  forms 
of  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason. 

Thus  we  see  already  that  we  can  never  arrive  at  the  real  na- 
ture of  things  from  without.  However  much  we  investigate,  we 
can  never  reach  anything  but  images  and  names.  We  are  like  a 
man  who  goes  round  a  castle  seeking  in  vain  for  an  entrance, 


640  ARTHUR    SCHOPENHAUER 

and  sometimes  sketching  the  facades.  And  yet  this  is  the  method 
that  has  been  followed  by  all  philosophers  before  me. 

§  1 8.  In  fact,  the  meaning  for  which  we  seek  of  that  world 
which  is  present  to  us  only  as  our  idea,  or  the  transition  from 
the  world  as  mere  idea  of  the  knowing  subject  to  whatever  it 
may  be  besides  this,  would  never  be  found  if  the  investigator 
himself -were  nothing  more  than  the  pure  knowing  subject  (a 
winged  cherub  without  a  body).  But  he  is  himself  rooted  in  that 
world ;  he  finds  himself  in  it  as  an  individual,  that  is  to  say,  his 
knowledge,  which  is  the  necessary  supporter  of  the  whole  world 
as  idea,  is  yet  always  given  through  the  medium  of  a  body,  whose 
affections  are,  as  we  have  shown,  the  starting-point  for  the 
understanding  in  the  perception  of  that  world.  His  body  is,  for 
the  pure  knowing  subject,  an  idea  like  every  other  idea,  an  object 
among  objects.  Its  movements  and  actions  are  so  far  known  to 
him  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  the  changes  of  all  other  per- 
ceived objects,  and  would  be  just  as  .strange  and  incomprehen- 
sible to  him  if  their  meaning  were  not  explained  for  him  in  an 
entirely  different  way.  Otherwise  he  would  see  his  actions  fol- 
low upon  given  motives  with  the  constancy  of  a  law  of  nature, 
just  as  the  changes  of  other  objects  follow  upon  causes,  stimuli, 
or  motives.  But  he  would  not  understand  the  influence  of  the 
motives  any  more  than  the  connection  between  every  other  effect 
which  he  sees  and  its  cause.  He  would  then  call  the  inner  nature 
of  these  manifestations  and  actions  of  his  body  which  he  did  not 
understand  a  force,  a  quality,  or  a  character,  as  he  pleased,  but 
he  would  have  no  further  insight  into  it.  But  all  this  is  not  the 
case ;  indeed  the  answer  to  the  riddle  is  given  to  the  subject  of 
knowledge  who  appears  as  an  individual,  and  the  answer  is  will. 
This  and  this  alone  gives  him  the  key  to  his  own  existence,  re- 
veals to  him  the  significance,  shows  him  the  inner  mechanism 
of  his  being,  of  his  action,  of  his  movements.  The  body  is  given 
in  two  entirely  different  ways  to  the  subject  of  knowledge,  who 
becomes  an  individual  only  through  his  identity  with  it.  It  is 
given  as  an  idea  in  intelligent  perception,  as  an  object  among 
objects  and  subject  to  the  laws  of  objects.  And  it  is  also  given 
in  quite  a  different  way  as  that  which  is  immediately  known  to 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND    IDEA     641 

every  one,  and  is  signified  by  the  word  will.  Every  true  act  of 
his  will  is  also  at  once  and  without  exception  a  movement  of  his 
body.  The  act  of  will  and  the  movement  of  the  body  are  not  two 
different  things  objectively  known,  which  the  bond  of  causality 
unites ;  they  do  not  stand  hi  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect ;  they 
are  one  and  the  same,  but  they  are  given  in  entirely  different 
ways,  —  immediately,  and  again  in  perception  for  the  under- 
standing. The  action  of  the  body  is  nothing  but  the  act  of  the 
will  objectified,  i.  e.,  passed  into  perception.  It  will  appear  later 
that  this  is  true  of  every  movement  of  the  body,  not  merely  those 
which  follow  upon  motives,  but  also  involuntary  movements 
which  follow  upcn  mere  stimuli,  and,  indeed,  that  the  whole 
body  is  nothing  but  objectified  will,  i.  e.,  will  become  idea.  All 
this  will  be  proved  and  made  quite  clear  in  the  course  of  this 
work.  In  one  respect,  therefore,  I  shall  call  the  body  the  objec- 
tivity of  will;  as  in  the  previous  book,  and  in  the  essay  on  the 
principle  of  sufficient  reason,  in  accordance  with  the  one-sided 
point  of  view  intentionally  adopted  there  (that  of  the  idea),  I 
called  it  the  immediate  object.  Thus  in  a  certain  sense  we  may 
also  say  that  will  is  the  knowledge  a  priori  of  the  body,  and  the 
body  is  the  knowledge  a  posteriori  of  the  will.  Resolutions  of 
the  will  which  relate  to  the  future  are  merely  deliberations  of 
the  reason  about  what  we  shall  will  at  a  particular  time,  not  real 
acts  of  will.  Only  the  carrying  out  of  the  resolve  stamps  it  as 
will,  for  till  then  it  is  never  more  than  an  intention  that  may  be 
changed,  and  that  exists  only  in  the  reason  in  abstracto.  It  is 
only  in  reflection  that  to  will  and  to  act  are  different ;  in  reality 
they  are  one.  Every  true,  genuine,  immediate  act  of  will  is  also, 
at  once  and  immediately,  a  visible  act  of  the  body.  And,  corre- 
sponding to  this,  every  impression  upcn  the  body  is  also,  on  the 
other  hand,  at  once  and  immediately  an  impression  upon  the 
will.  As  such  it  is  called  pain  when  it  is  opposed  to  the  will ; 
gratification  or  pleasure  when  it  is  in  accordance  with  it.  The 
degrees  of  both  are  widely  different.  It  is  quite  wrong,  however, 
to  call  pain  and  pleasure  ideas,  for  they  are  by  no  means  ideas, 
but  immediate  affections  of  the  will  in  its  manifestation,  the 
body;  compulsory,  instantaneous  willing  or  not-willing  of  the 


642  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

impression  which  the  body  sustains.  There  are  only  a  few  im- 
pressions of  the  body  which  do  not  touch  the  will,  and  it  is 
through  these  alone  that  the  body  is  an  immediate  object  of 
knowledge,  for,  as  perceived  by  the  understanding,  it  is  already 
an  indirect  object  like  all  others.  These  impressions  are,  there- 
fore, to  be  treated  directly  as  mere  ideas,  and  excepted  from 
what  has  been  said.  The  impressions  we  refer  to  are  the  affec- 
tions of  the  purely  objective  senses  of  sight,  hearing,  and  touch, 
though  only  so  far  as  these  organs  are  affected  in  the  way  which 
is  specially  peculiar  to  their  specific  nature.  This  affection  of 
them  is  so  excessively  weak  an  excitement  of  the  heightened  and 
specifically  modified  sensibility  of  these  parts  that  it  does  not 
affect  the  will,  but  only  furnishes  the  understanding  with  the 
data  out  of  which  the  perception  arises,  undisturbed  by  any 
excitement  of  the  will.  But  every  stronger  or  different  kind  of 
affection  of  these  organs  of  sense  is  painful,  that  is  to  say,  against 
the  will,  and  thus  they  also  belong  to  its  objectivity.  Weakness 
of  the  nerves  shows  itself  in  this,  that  the  impressions  which 
have  only  such  a  degree  of  strength  as  would  usually  be  sufficient 
to  make  them  data  for  the  understanding  reach  the  higher  degree 
at  which  they  influence  the  will,  that  is  to  say,  give  pain  or  plea- 
sure, though  more  often  pain,  which  is,  however,  to  some  extent 
deadened  and  inarticulate,  so  that  not  only  particular  tones  and 
strong  light  are  painful  to  us,  but  there  ensues  a  generally  un- 
healthy and  hypochondriacal  disposition  which  is  not  distinctly 
understood.  The  identity  of  the  body  and  the  will  shows  itself 
further,  among  other  ways,  in  the  circumstance  that  every  vehe- 
ment and  excessive  movement  of  the  will,  i.  e.,  every  emotion, 
agitates  the  body  and  its  inner  constitution  directly,  and  disturbs 
the  course  of  its  vital  functions.  This  is  shown  in  detail  in  "Will 
in  Nature,"  p.  27  of  the  second  edition  and  p.  28  of  the  third. 

Lastly,  the  knowledge  which  I  have  of  my  will,  though  it  is 
immediate,  cannot  be  separated  from  that  which  I  have  of  my 
body.  I  know  my  will,  not  as  a  whole,  not  as  a  unity,  not  com- 
pletely, according  to  its  nature,  but  I  know  it  only  in  its  particu- 
lar acts,  and  therefore  in  time,  which  is  the  form  of  the  phe- 
nomenal aspect  of  my  body,  as  of  every  object.  Therefore  the 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     643 

body  is  a  condition  of  the  knowledge  of  my  will.  Thus,  I  cannot 
really  imagine  this  will  apart  from  my  body.  In  the  essay  on  the 
principle  of  sufficient  reason,  the  will,  or  rather  the  subject  of 
willing,  is  treated  as  a  special  class  of  ideas  or  objects.  But  even 
there  we  saw  this  object  become  one  with  the  subject;  that  is, 
we  saw  it  cease  to  be  an  object.  We  there  called  this  union  the 
miracle  xar  e^ox^v,  and  the  whole  of  the  present  work  is  to  a 
certain  extent  an  explanation  of  this.  So  far  as  I  know  my  will 
specially  as  object,  I  know  it  as  body.  But  then  I  am  again  at 
the  first  class  of  ideas  laid  down  in  that  essay,  i.  e.,  real  objects. 
As  we  proceed  we  shall  see  always  more  clearly  that  these  ideas 
of  the  first  class  obtain  their  explanation  and  solution  from  those 
of  the  fourth  class  given  in  the  essay,  which  could  no  longer  be 
properly  opposed  to  the  subject  as  object,  and  that,  therefore, 
we  must  learn  to  understand  the  inner  nature  of  the  law  of  caus- 
ality which  is  valid  in  the  first  class,  and  of  all  that  happens  in 
accordance  with  it  from  the  law  of  motivation  which  governs 
the  fourth  class. 

The  identity  of  the  will  and  the  body,  of  which  we  have  now 
given  a  cursory  explanation,  can  only  be  proved  in  the  manner 
we  have  adopted  here.  We  have  proved  this  identity  for  the  first 
time,  and  sjiall  do  so  more  and  more  fully  in  the  course  of  this 
work.  By  " proved"  we  mean  raised  from  the  immediate  con- 
sciousness, from  knowledge  in  the  concrete  to  abstract  know- 
ledge of  the  reason,  or  carried  over  into  abstract  knowledge. 
On  the  other  hand,  from  its  very  nature  it  can  never  be  demon- 
strated, that  is,  deduced  as  indirect  knowledge  from  some  other 
more  direct  knowledge,  just  because  it  is  itself  the  most  direct 
knowledge ;  and  if  we  do  not  apprehend  it  and  stick  to  it  as  such, 
we  shall  expect  in  vain  to  receive  it  again  in  some  indirect  way  as 
derivative  knowledge.  It  is  knowledge  of  quite  a  special  kind, 
whose  truth  cannot  therefore  properly  be  brought  under  any  of 
the  four  rubrics  under  which  I  have  classified  all  truth  in  the 
essay  on  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason,  §  29,  the  logical,  the 
empirical,  the  metaphysical,  and  the  metalogical,  for  it  is  not, 
like  all  these,  the  relation  of  an  abstract  idea  to  another  idea, 
or  to  the  necessary  form  of  perceptive  or  of  abstract  ideation, 


644  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

but  it  is  the  relation  of  a  judgment  to  the  connection  which  an 
idea  of  perception,  the  body,  has  to  that  which  is  not  an  idea  at 
all,  but  something  toto  genere  different,  will.  I  should  like  there- 
fore to  distinguish  this  from  all  other  truth,  and  call  it 
KO.T  cgoxtv  philosophical  truth.  We  can  turn  the  expression  of 
this  truth  in  different  ways  and  say :  My  body  ancj  my  will  are 
one ;  —  or,  What  as  an  idea  of  perception  I  call  my  body,  I  call 
my  will,  so  far  as  I  am  conscious  of  it  in  an  entirely  different 
way  which  cannot  be  compared  to  any  other ;  —  or,  My  body 
is  the  objectivity  of  my  will ;  —  or,  My  body  considered  apart 
from  the  fact  that  it  is  my  idea  is  still  my  will,  and  so  forth. 

§  19.  In  the  first  book  we  were  reluctantly  driven  to  explain 
the  human  body  as  merely  idea  of  the  subject  which  knows  it, 
like  all  the  other  objects  of  this  world  of  perception.  But  it  has 
now  become  clear  that  what  enables  us  consciously  to  distinguish 
our  own  body  from  all  other  objects  which  in  other  respects  are 
precisely  the  same,  is  that  our  body  appears  in  consciousness 
in  quite  another  way  toto  genere  different  from  idea,  and  this  we 
denote  by  the  word  will ;  and  that  it  is  just  this  double  know- 
ledge which  we  have  of  our  own  body  that  affords  us  informa- 
tion about  it,  about  its  action  and  movement  following  on  motives 
and  also  about  what  it  experiences  by  means  of  external  im- 
pressions ;  in  a  word,  about  what  is  it,  not  as  idea,  but  as  more 
than  idea;  that  is  to  say,  what  it  is  in  itself.  None  of  this  in- 
formation have  we  got  directly  with  regard  to  the  nature,  action, 
and  experience  of  other  real  objects. 

It  is  just  because  of  this  special  relation  to  one  body  that  the 
knowing  subject  is  an  individual.  For  regarded  apart  from  this 
relation,  his  body  is  for  him,  only  an  idea  like  all  other  ideas. 
But  the  relation  through  which  the  knowing  subject  is  an  indi- 
vidual, is  just  on  that  account  a  relation  which  subsists  only 
between  him  and  one  particular  idea  of  all  those  which  he  has. 
Therefore  he  is  conscious  of  this  one  idea,  not  merely  as  an  idea, 
but  in  quite  a  different  way  as  a  will.  If,  however,  he  abstracts 
from  that  special  relation,  from  that  twofold  and  completely 
heterogeneous  knowledge  of  what  is  one  and  the  same,  then 
that  one,  the  body,  is  an  idea  like  all  other  ideas.  Therefore,  in 


THE   WORLD   AS    WILL   AND   IDEA     645 

order  to  understand  the  matter,  the  individual  who  knows  must 
either  assume  that  what  distinguishes  that  one  idea  from  others 
is  merely  the  fact  that  his  knowledge  stands  in  this  double  rela- 
tion to  it  alone ;  that  insight  in  two  ways  at  the  same  time  is  open 
to  him  only  in  the  case  of  this  one  object  of  perception,  and  that 
this  is  to  be  explained  not  by  the  difference  of  this  object  from 
all  others,  but  only  by  the  difference  between  the  relation  of  his 
knowledge  to  this  one  object,  and  its  relation  to  all  other  objects. 
Or  else  he  must  assume  that  this  object  is  essentially  different 
from  all  others ;  that  it  alone  of  all  objects  is  at  once  both  will 
and  idea,  while  the  rest  are  only  ideas,  i.  e.,  only  phantoms.  Thus 
he  must  assume  that  his  body  is  the  only  real  individual  in  the 
world,  i.  e.,  the  only  phenomenon  of  will  and  the  only  immediate 
object  of  the  subject.  That  other  objects,  considered  merely  as 
ideas,  are  like  his  body,  that  is,  like  it,  fill  space  (which  itself 
can  only  be  present  as  idea),  and  also,  like  it,  are  causally  active 
in  space,  is  indeed  demonstrably  certain  from  the  law  of  caus- 
ality which  is  a  priori  valid  for  ideas,  and  which  admits  of  no 
effect  without  a  cause ;  but  apart  from  the  fact  that  we  can  only 
reason  from  an  effect  to  a  cause  generally,  and  not  to  a  similar 
cause,  we  are  still  in  the  sphere  of  mere  ideas,  in  which  alone 
the  law  of  causality  is  valid,  and  beyond  which  it  can  never  take 
us.  But  whether  the  objects  known  to  the  individual  only  as 
ideas  are  yet,  like  his  own  body,  manifestations  of  a  will,  is,  as 
was  said  in  the  First  Book,  the  proper  meaning  of  the  question 
as  to  the  reality  of  the  external  world.  To  deny  this  is  theoretical 
egoism,  which  on  that  account  regards  all  phenomena  that  are 
outside  its  own  will  as  phantoms,  just  as  in  a  practical  reference 
exactly  the  same  thing  is  done  by  practical  egoism.  For  in  it  a 
man  regards  and  treats  himself  alone  as  a  person,  and  all  other 
persons  as  mere  phantoms.  Theoretical  egoism  can  never  be 
demonstrably  refuted,  yet  in  philosophy  it  has  never  been  used 
otherwise  than  as  a  sceptical  sophism,  i.  e.,  a  pretence.  As  a 
serious  conviction,  on  the  other  hand,  it  could  only  be  found  in  a 
madhouse,  and  as  such  it  stands  in  need  of  a  cure  rather  than  a 
refutation.  We  do  not  therefore  combat  it  any  further  in  this 
regard,  but  treat  it  as  merely  the  last  stronghold  of  scepticism, 


646  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

which  is  always  polemical.  Thus  our  knowledge,  which  is  al- 
ways bound  to  individuality  and  is  limited  by  this  circumstance, 
brings  with  it  the  necessity  that  each  of  us  can  only  be  one,  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  each  of  us  can  know  all;  and  it  is  this  limita- 
tion that  creates  the  need  for  philosophy.  We  therefore  who, 
for  this  very  reason,  are  striving  to  extend  the  limits  of  our  know- 
ledge through  philosophy,  will  treat  this  sceptical  argument  of 
theoretical  egoism  which  meets  us,  as  an  army  would  treat  a 
small  frontier  fortress.  The  fortress  cannot  indeed  be  taken, 
but  the  garrison  can  never  sally  forth  from  it,  and  therefore  we 
pass  it  by  without  danger,  and  are  not  afraid  to  have  it  in  our 
rear. 

The  double  knowledge  which  each  of  us  has  of  the  nature  and 
activity  of  his  own  body,  and  which  is  given  in  two  completely 
different  ways,  has  now  been  clearly  brought  out.  We  shall  ac- 
cordingly make  further  use  of  it  as  a  key  to  the  nature  of  every 
phenomenon  in  nature,  and  shall  judge  of  all  objects  which  are 
not  our  own  bodies,  and  are  consequently  not  given  to  our  con- 
sciousness in  a  double  way  but  only  as  ideas,  according  to  the 
analogy  of  our  own  bodies,  and  shall  therefore  assume  that  as 
in  one  respect  they  are  idea,  just  like  our  bodies,  and  in  this 
respect  are  analogous  to  them,  so  in  another  aspect,  what  re- 
mains of  objects  when  we  set  aside  their  existence  as  idea  of  the 
subject,  must  in  its  inner  nature  be  the  same  as  that  in  us  which 
we  call  will.  For  what  other  kind  of  existence  or  reality  should 
we  attribute  to  the  rest  of  the  material  world  ?  Whence  should 
we  take  the  elements  out  of  which  we  construct  such  a  world  ? 
Besides  will  and  idea  nothing  is  known  to  us  or  thinkable.  If 
we  wish  to  attribute  the  greatest  known  reality  to  the  material 
world  which  exists  immediately  only  in  our  idea,  we  give  it  the 
reality  which  our  own  body  has  for  each  of  us ;  for  that  is  the 
most  real  thing  for  every  one.  But  if  we  now  analyse  the  reality 
of  this  body  and  its  actions,  beyond  the  fact  that  it  is  idea,  we 
find  nothing  in  it  except  the  will ;  with  this  its  reality  is  exhausted. 
Therefore  we  can  nowhere  find  another  kind  of  reality  which 
we  can  attribute  to  the  material  world.  Thus  if  we  hold  that  the 
material  world  is  spmething  more  than  merely  our  idea,  we  must 


THE  WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     647 

say  that  besides  being  idea,  that  is,  in  itself  and  according  to  its 
inmost  nature,  it  is  that  which  we  find  immediately  in  ourselves 
as  will.  .  .  . 

§  21.  Whoever  has  now  gained  from  all  these  expositions 
a  knowledge  in  abstracto,  and  therefore  clear  and  certain,  of 
what  every  one  knows  directly  in  concrete,  i.e.,  as  feeling,  a  know- 
ledge that  his  will  is  the  real  inner  nature  of  his  phenomenal 
being,  which  manifests  itself  to  him  as  idea,  both  in  his  actions 
and  in  their  permanent  substratum,  his  body,  and  that  his  will 
is  that  which  is  most  immediate  in  his  consciousness,  though  it 
has  not  as  such  completely  passed  into  the  form  of  idea  in  which 
object  and  subject  stand  over  against  each  other,  but  makes 
itself  known  to  him  in  a  direct  manner,  in  which  he  does  not 
quite  clearly  distinguish  subject  and  object,  yet  is  not  known 
as  a  whole  to  the  individual  himself,  but  only  in  its  particular 
acts,  —  whoever,  I  say,  has  with  me  gained  this  conviction  will 
find  that  of  itself  it  affords  him  the  key  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
inmost  being  of  the  whole  of  nature ;  for  he  now  transfers  it  to 
all  those  phenomena  which  are  not  given  to  him,  like  his  own 
phenomenal  existence,  both  in  direct  and  indirect  knowledge, 
but  only  in  the  latter,  thus  merely  onesidedly  as  idea  alone.  He 
will  recognise  this  will  of  which  we  are  speaking  not  only  in  those 
phenomenal  existences  which  exactly  resemble  his  own,  in  men 
and  animals  as  their  inmost  nature,  but  the  course  of  reflection 
will  lead  him  to  recognise  the  force  which  germinates  and  vege- 
tates in  the  plant,  and  indeed  the  force  through  which  the  crystal 
is  formed,  that  by  which  the  magnet  turns  to  the  North  Pole, 
the  force  whose  shock  he  experiences  from  the  contact  of  two  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  metals,  the  force  which  appears  in  the  elective 
affinities  of  matter  as  repulsion  and  attraction,  decomposition 
and  combination,  and,  lastly,  even  gravitation,  which  acts  so 
powerfully  throughout  matter,  draws  the  stone  to  the  earth  and 
the  earth  to  the  sun,  —  all  these,  I  say,  he  will  recognise  as  differ- 
ent only  in  their  phenomenal  existence,  but  in  their  inner  nature 
as  identical,  as  that  which  is  directly  known  to  him  so  intimately 
and  so  much  better  than  anything  else,  and  which  in  its  most 
distinct  manifestation  is  called  will.  It  is  this  application  of 


648  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

reflection  alone  that  prevents  us  from  remaining  any  longer  at 
the  phenomenon,  and  leads  us  to  the  thing  in  itself.  Phenomenal 
existence  is  idea  and  nothing  more.  All  idea,  of  whatever  kind 
it  may  be,  all  object,  is  phenomenal  existence,  but  the  will  alone 
is  a  thing  in  itself.  As  such,  it  is  throughout  not  idea,  but  toto 
genere  different  from  it ;  it  is  that  of  which  all  idea,  all  object, 
is  the  phenomenal  appearance,  the  visibility,  the  objectification. 
It  is  the  inmost  nature,  the  kernel,  of  every  particular  thing,  and 
also  of  the  whole.  It  appears  in  every  blind  force  of  nature  and 
also  in  the  preconsidered  action  of  man ;  and  the  great  difference 
between  these  two  is  merely  in  the  degree  of  the  manifestation, 
not  in  the  nature  of  what  manifests  itself. 

§  25.  We  know  that  multiplicity  in  general  is  necessarily 
conditioned  by  space  and  time,  and  is  only  thinkable  in  them. 
In  this  respect  they  are  called  the  principium  individuationis. 
But  we  have  found  that  space  and  time  are  forms  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  sufficient  reason.  In  this  principle  all  our  knowledge  a 
priori  is  expressed,  but,  as  we  showed  above,  this  a  priori  know- 
ledge, as  such,  only  applies  to  the  knowableness  of  things,  not 
to  the  things  themselves,  i.  e.,  it  is  only  our  form  of  knowledge, 
it  is  not  a  property  of  the  thing-in-itself.  The  thing-in-itself  is, 
as  such,  free  from  all  forms  of  knowledge,  even  the  most  uni- 
versal, that  of  being  an  object  for  the  subject.  In  other  words, 
the  thing-in-itself  is  something  altogether  different  from  the  idea. 
If,  now,  this  thing-in-itself  is  the  will,  as  I  believe  I  have  fully 
and  convincingly  proved  it  to  be,  then,  regarded  as  such  and 
apart  from  its  manifestation,  it  lies  outside  time  and  space,  and 
therefore  knows  no  multiplicity,  and  is  consequently  one.  Yet, 
as  I  have  said,  it  is  not  one  in  the  sense  in  which  an  individual 
or  a  concept  is  one,  but  as  something  to  which  the  condition 
of  the  possibility  of  multiplicity,  the  principium  individuationis, 
is  foreign.  The  multiplicity  of  things  in  space  and  time,  which 
collectively  constitute  the  objectification  of  will,  does  not  affect 
the  will  itself,  which  remains  indivisible  notwithstanding  it.  It 
is  not  the  case  that,  in  some  way  or  other,  a  smaller  part  of  will 
is  in  the  stone  and  a  larger  part  in  the  man,  for  the  relation  of 
part  and  whole  belongs  exclusively  to  space,  and  has  no  longer 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     649 

any  meaning  when  we  go  beyond  this  form  of  intuition  or  per- 
ception. The  more  and  the  less  have  application  only  to  the 
phenomenon  of  will,  that  is,  its  visibility,  its  objectification.  Of 
this  there  is  a  higher  grade  in  the  plant  than  in. the  stone;  in  the 
animal  a  higher  grade  than  in  the  plant :  indeed,  the  passage  of 
will  into  visibility,  its  objectification,  has  grades  as  innumerable 
as  exist  between  the  dimmest  twilight  and  the  brightest  sunshine, 
the  loudest  sound  and  the  faintest  echo.  We  shall  return  later 
to  the  consideration  of  these  grades  of  visibility  which  belong 
to  the  objectification  of  the  will,  to  the  reflection  of  its  nature. 
But  as  the  grades  of  its  objectification  do  not  directly  concern 
the  will  itself,  still  less  is  it  concerned  by  the  multiplicity  of  the 
phenomena  of  these  different  grades,  i.  e.,  the  multitude  of  in- 
dividuals of  each  form,  or  the  particular  manifestations  of  each 
force.  For  this  multiplicity  is  directly  conditioned  by  time  and 
space,  into  which  the  will  itself  never  enters.  The  will  reveals 
itself  as  completely  and  as  much  in  one  oak  as  in  millions.  Their 
number  and  multiplication  in  space  and  time  has  no  meaning 
with  regard  to  it,  but  only  with  regard  to  the  multiplicity  of 
individuals  who  know  in  space  and  time,  and  who  are  them- 
selves multiplied  and  dispersed  in  these.  The  multiplicity  of 
these  individuals  itself  belongs  not  to  the  will,  but  only  to  its 
manifestation.  We  may  therefore  say  that  if,  per  impossibile, 
a  single  real  existence,  even  the  most  insignificant,  were  to  be 
entirely  annihilated,  the  whole  world  would  necessarily  perish 
with  it.  The  great  mystic  Angelus  Silesius  feels  this  when  he 
says : — 

"  I  know  God  cannot  live  an  instant  without  me, 
He  must  give  up  the  ghost  if  I  should  cease  to  be." 

Men  have  tried  in  various  ways  to  bring  the  immeasurable 
greatness  of  the  material  universe  nearer  to  the  comprehension 
of  us  all,  and  then  they  have  seized  the  opportunity  to  make 
edifying  remarks.  They  have  referred  perhaps  to  the  relative 
smallness  of  the  earth,  and  indeed  of  man ;  or,  on  the  contrary, 
they  have  pointed  out  the  greatness  of  the  mind  of  this  man 
who  is  so  insignificant  —  the  mind  that  can  solve,  comprehend, 
and  even  measure  the  greatness  of  the  universe,  and  so  forth. 


650  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

Now,  all  this  is  very  well,  but  to  me,  when  I  consider  the  vast- 
ness  of  the  world,  the  most  important  point  is  this,  that  the 
thing-in-itself ,  whose  manifestation  is  the  world  —  whatever 
else  it  may  be  —  cannot  have  its  true  self  spread  out  and  dis- 
persed after  this  fashion  in  boundless  space,  but  that  this  endless 
extension  belongs  only  to  its  manifestation.  The  thing-in-itself, 
on  the  contrary,  is  present  entire  and  undivided  in  every  object 
of  nature  and  in  every  living  being.  Therefore  we  lose  nothing 
by  standing  still  beside  any  single  individual  thing,  and  true 
wisdom  is  not  to  be  gained  by  measuring  out  the  boundless  world, 
or,  what  would  be  more  to  the  purpose,  by  actually  traversing 
endless  space.  It  is  rather  to  be  attained  by  the  thorough  inves- 
tigation of  any  individual  thing,  for  thus  we  seek  to  arrive  at  a 
full  knowledge  and  understanding  of  its  true  and  peculiar  nature. 
The  subject  which  will  therefore  be  fully  considered  in  the 
next  book,  and  which  has,  doubtless,  already  presented  itself 
to  the  mind  of  every  student  of  Plato,  is,  that  these  different 
grades  of  the  objectification  of  will  which  are  manifested  in 
innumerable  individuals,  and  exist  as  their  unattained  types 
or  as  the  eternal  forms  of  things,  not  entering  themselves  into 
time  and  space,  which  are  the  medium  of  individual  things,  but 
remaining  fixed,  subject  to  no  change,  always  being,  never  be- 
coming, while  the  particular  things  arise  and  pass  away,  always 
become  and  never  are,  —  that  these  grades  of  the  objectification 
of  will  are,  I  say,  simply  Plaids  Ideas.  I  make  this  passing  ref- 
erence to  the  matter  here  in  order  that^^raay  ha.  able  in  future 
to  use  the  word  Idea  in  this  sense.  In  my  writings,  therefore, 
the  word  is  always  to  be  understood  inks  true  and  original 
meaning  given  to  it  by  Plato,  and  has  ap^utely  no  reference 
to  those  abstract  productions  of  dogmausing  scholastic  reason, 
which  Kant  has  inaptly  and  illegitimately  used  this  word  to 
denote,  though  Plato  had  already  appropriated  and  used  it  most 
fitly.  By  Idea,  then,  I  understand  every  definite  and  fixed  grade  \ 
of  the  objectification  of  will,  so  far  as  it  is  thing-in-itself,  and 
therefore  has  no  multiplicity.  These  grades  are  related  to  indi- 
vidual things  as  their  eternal  forms  or  prototypes.  The  shortest 
and  most  concise  statement  of  this  famous  Platonic  doctrine  is 


THE  WORLD  AS   WILL  AND   IDEA     651 


given  us  by  Diogenes  Laertes  (iii.  12):  "  CO  nxdrw  <£r/<ri',  lv  rfj 

<f>v(T€L  ras  iSeas  eorrai/at,  KaOdirep  TrapaSety/Aara,  TO.  8'  aAAa  ravrats  eot/cei/at, 

TOVTWJ/  6/Aoia>/«rra  KafleVrooTa."  —  ("  Plato  ideas  in  natura  velut 
exemplaria  dixit  subsistere  ;  cetera  his  esse  similia,  ad  istarum 
similitudinem  consistentia.  ") 

BOOK  III.    THE   PLATONIC  IDEA:    THE  OBJECT 

OF   ART 

§  32.  It  follows  from  our  consideration  of  the  subject,  that, 
for  us,  Idea  and  thing-in-itself  are  not  entirely  one  and  the  same, 
in  spite  of  the  inner  agreement  between  Kant  and  Plato,  and 
the  identity  of  the  aim  they  had  before  them  or  the  concep- 
tion of  the  world  which  roused  them  and  led  them  to  philo- 
sophise. The  Idea  is  for  us  rather  the  direct,  and  therefore 
adequate,  objectivity  of  the  thing-in-itself,  which  is,  however, 
itself  the  will  —  the  will  as  not  yet  objectified,  not  yet  become 
idea.  For  the  thing-in-itself  must,  even  according  to  Kant,  be 
free  from  all  the  forms  connected  with  knowing  asXsuch;  and  it 
is  merely  an  error  on  his  part  that  he  did  not  count  among  these 
forms,  before  all  others,  that  of  being  object  for  a  subject,  for 
it  is  the  first  and  most  universal  form  of  all  phenomena,  i.  e.,  of 
all  idea;  he  should  therefore  have  distinctly  denied  objective 
existence  to  his  thing-in-itself,  which  would  have  saved  him 
from  a  great  inconsistency  that  was  soon  discovered.  The  Pla- 
tonic Idea,  on  the  other  hand,  is  necessarily  object,  something 
known,  an  idea,  and  in  that  respect  is  different  from  the  thing- 
in-itself,  but  in  that  respect  only.  It  has  merely  laid  aside  the 
subordinate  forms  of  the  phenomenon,  all  of  which  we  include 
in  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason,  or  rather  it  has  not  yet  as- 
sumed them;  but  it  has  retained  the  first  and  most  universal 
form,  that  of  the  idea  in  general,  the  form  of  being  object  for  a 
subject.  It  is  the  forms  which  are  subordinate  to  this  (whose 
general  expression  is  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason)  that 
multiply  the  Idea  in  particular  transitory  individuals,  whose 
number  is  a  matter  of  complete  indifference  to  the  Idea.  The 
principle  of  sufficient  reason  is  thus  again  the  form  into  which 


652  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

the  Idea  enters  when  it  appears  in  the  knowledge  of  the  sub- 
ject as  individual.  The  particular  thing  that  manifests  itself  in 
accordance  with  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  is  thus  only 
an  indirect  objectification  of  the  thing-in-itself  (which  is  the 
will),  for  between  it  and  the  thing-in-itself  stands  the  Idea  as 
the  only  direct  objectivity  of  the  will,  because  it  has  assumed 
none  of  the  special  forms  of  knowledge  as  such,  except  that  of 
the  idea  hi  general,  i.  e.,  the  form  of  being  object  for  a  subject. 
Therefore  it  alone  is  the  most  adequate  objectivity  of  the  will  or 
thing-in-itself  which  is  possible ;  indeed  it  is  the  whole  thing-in- 
itself,  only  under  the  form  of  the  idea ;  and  here  lies  the  ground 
of  the  great  agreement  between  Plato  and  Kant,  although,  in 
strict  accuracy,  that  of  which  they  speak  is  not  the  same.  But 
the  particular  things  are  no  really  adequate  objectivity  of  the 
will,  for  in  them  it  is  obscured  by  those  forms  whose  general 
expression  is  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason,  but  which  are 
conditions  of  the  knowledge  which  belongs  to  the  individual  as . 
such.  If  it  is  allowable  to  draw  conclusions  from  an  impossible 
presupposition,  we  would,  in  fact,  no  longer  know  particular 
things,  nor  events,  nor  change,  nor  multiplicity,  but  would  com- 
prehend only  Ideas,  —  only  the  grades  of  the  objectification  of 
that  one  will,  of  the  thing-in-itself,  in  pure  unclouded  know- 
ledge. Consequently  our  world  would  be  a  nunc  stans,  if  it  were 
not  that,  as  knowing  subjects,  we  are  also  individuals,  i.  e.,  our 
perceptions  come  to  us  through  tjie  medium  of  a  body,  from 
the  affections  of  which  they  proceed,  and  which  is  itself  only 
concrete  willing,  objectivity  of  the  will,  and  thus  is  an  object 
among  objects,  and  as  such  comes  into  the  knowing  conscious- 
ness in  the  only  way  in  which  an  object  can,  through  the  forms 
of  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason,  and  consequently  already 
presupposes,  and  therefore  brings  in,  time,  and  all  other  forms 
which  that  principle  expresses.  Time  is  only  the  broken  and 
piecemeal  view  which  the  individual  being  has  of  the  Ideas, 
which  are  outside  time,  and  consequently  eternal.  Therefore 
Plato  says  time  is  the  moving  picture  of  eternity:  cuwvos  CIKOJV 

Kwrprr)  6  ^/oovos. 

§  35.  In  order  to  gain  a  deeper  insight  into  the  nature  of  the 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND    IDEA     653 

» 

world,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should  learn  to  distin- 
guish the  will  as  thing-in-itself  from  its  adequate  objectivity, 
and  also  the  different  grades  in  which  this  appears  more  and 
more  distinctly  and  fully,  i.  e.,  the  Ideas  themselves,  from  the 
merely  phenomenal  existence  of  these  Ideas  in  the  forms  of  the 
principle  of  sufficient  reason,  the  restricted  method  of  know- 
ledge of  the  individual.  We  shall  then  agree  with  Plato  when 
he  attributes  actual  being  only  to  the  Ideas,  and  allows  only 
an  illusive,  dream-like  existence  to  things  in  space  and  time,  the 
real  world  for  the  individual.  Then  we  shall  understand  how 
one  and  the  same  Idea  reveals  itself  in  so  many  phenomena, 
and  presents  its  nature  only  bit  by  bit  to  the  individual,  one  side 
after  another.  Then  we  shall  also  distinguish  the  Idea  itself 
from  the  way  in  which  its  manifestation  appears  in  the  observa- 
tion of  the  individual,  and  recognise  the  former  as  essential 
and  the  latter  as  unessential.  Let  us  consider  this  with  the  help 
of  examples  taken  from  the  most  insignificant  things,  and  also 
from  the  greatest.  When  the  clouds  move,  the  figures  which 
they  form  are  not  essential,  but  indifferent  to  them ;  but  that  as 
elastic  vapour  they  are  pressed  together,  drifted  along,  spread 
out,  or  torn  asunder  by  the  force  of  the  wind :  this  is  their  nature, 
the  essence  of  the  forces  which  objectify  themselves  in  them,  the 
Idea;  their  actual  forms  are  only  for  the  individual  observer. 
To  the  brook  that  flows  over  stones,  the  eddies,  the  waves,  the 
foam-flakes  which  it  forms  are  indifferent  and  unessential;  but 
that  it  follows  the  attraction  of  gravity,  and  behaves  as  inelastic,  , 
perfectly  mobile,  formless,  transparent  fluid :  this  is  its  nature ; 
this,  if  known  through  perception,  is  its  Idea;  these  accidental 
forms  are  only  for  us  so  long  as  we  know  as  individuals.  The  ice 
on  the  window-pane  forms  itself  into  crystals  according  to  the 
laws  of  crystallisation,  which  reveal  the  essence  of  the  force  of 
nature  that  appears  here,  exhibit  the  Idea;  but  the  trees  and 
flowers  which  it  traces  on  the  pane  are  unessential,  and  are  only 
there  for  us.  What  appears  in  the  clouds,  the  brook,  and  the 
crystal  is  the  weakest  echo  of  that  will  which  appears  more  fully 
in  the  plant,  more  fully  still  in  the  beast,  and  most  fully  in  man. 
But  only  the  essential  in  all  these  grades  of  its  objectification 


654  ARTHUR    SCHOPENHAUER 

•-• 

constitutes  the  Idea ;  on  the  other  hand,  its  unfolding  or  develop- 
ment, because  broken  up  in  the  forms  of  the  principle  of  suffi- 
cient reason  into  a  multiplicity  of  many-sided  phenomena,  is 
unessential  to  the  Idea,  lies  merely  in  the  kind  of  knowledge 
that  belongs  to  the  individual  and  has  reality  only  for  this.  The 
same  thing  necessarily  holds  good  of  the  unfolding  of  that  Idea 
which  is  the  completest  objectivity  of  will.  Therefore,  the  history 
of  the  human  race,  the  throng  of  events,  the  change  of  times, 
the  multifarious  forms  of  human  life  in  different  lands  and  coun- 
tries, all  this  is  only  the  accidental  form  of  the  manifestation  of 
the  Idea,  does  not  belong  to  the  Idea  itself,  in  which  alone  lies 
the  adequate  objectivity  of  the  will,  but  only  to  the  phenomenon 
which  appears  in  the  knowledge  of  the  individual,  and  is  just 
as  foreign,  unessential,  and  indifferent  to  the  Idea  itself  as  the 
figures  which  they  assume  are  to  the  clouds,  the  form  of  its 
eddies  and  foam-flakes  to  the  brook,  or  its  trees  and  flowers  to 
the  ice. 

To  him  who  has  thoroughly  grasped  this,  and  can  distinguish 
between  the  will  and  the  Idea,  and  between  the  Idea  and  its 
manifestation,  the  events  of  the  world  will  have  significance  only 
so  far  as  they  are  the  letters  out  of  which  we  may  read  the  Idea 
of  man,  but  not  in  and  for  themselves.  He  will  not  believe  with 
the  vulgar  that  time  may  produce  something  actually  new  and 
significant;  that  through  it,  or  in  it,  something  absolutely  real 
may  attain  to  existence,  or  indeed  that  it  itself  as  a  whole  has 
beginning  and  end,  plan  and  development,  and  in  some  way 
has  for  its  final  aim  the  highest  perfection  (according  to  their 
conception)  of  the  last  generation  of  man,whose  life  is  a  brief 
thirty  years.  Therefore  he  will  just  as  little,  with  Homer,  people 
a  whole  Olympus  with  gods  to  guide  the  events  of  time,  as,  with 
Ossian,  he  will  take  the  forms  of  the  clouds  for  individual  beings ; 
for,  as  we  have  said,  both  have  just  as  much  meaning  as  regards 
the  Idea  which  appears  in  them.  In  the  manifold  forms  of  human 
life  and  in  the  unceasing  change  of  events,  he  will  regard  the 
Idea  only  as  the  abiding  and  essential,  in  which  the  will  to  live 
has  its  fullest  objectivity,  and  which  shows  its  different  sides  in 
the  capacities,  the  passions,  the  errors  and  the  excellences  of 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     655 

the  human  race;  in  self-interest,  hatred,  love,  fear,  boldness, 
frivolity,  stupidity,  slyness,  wit,  genius,  and  so  forth,  all  of  which 
crowding  together  and  combining  in  thousands  of  forms  (in- 
dividuals), continually  create  the  history  of  the  great  and  the 
little  world,  in  which  it  is  all  the  same  whether  they  are  set  in 
motion  by  nuts  or  by  crowns.  Finally,  he  will  find  that  in  the 
world  it  is  the  same  as  hi  the  dramas  of  Dozzi,  in  all  of  which 
the  same  persons  appear,  with  like  intention,  and  with  a  like 
fate;  the  motives  and  incidents  are  certainly  different  in  each 
piece,  but  the  spirit  of  the  incidents  is  the  same ;  the  actors  in 
one  piece  know  nothing  of  the  incidents  of  another,  although 
they  performed  in  it  themselves;  therefore,  after  all  experience 
of  former  pieces,  Pantaloon  has  become  no  more  agile  or  gen- 
erous, Tartaglia  no  more  conscientious,  Brighella  no  more 
courageous,  and  Columbine  no  more  modest. 

Suppose  we  were  allowed  for  once  a  clearer  glance  into  the 
kingdom  of  the  possible,  and  over  the  whole  chain  of  causes  and 
effects;  if  the  earth-spirit  appeared  and  showed  us  in  a  picture 
all  the  greatest  men,  enlighteners  of  the  world,  and  heroes,  that 
chance  destroyed  before  they  were  ripe  for  their  work ;  then  the 
great  events  that  would  have  changed  the  history  of  the  world 
and  brought  in  periods  of  the  highest  culture  and  enlightenment, 
but  which  the  blindest  chance,  the  most  insignificant  accident, 
hindered  at  the  outset ;  lastly,  the  splendid  powers  of  great  men, 
that  would  have  enriched  whole  ages  of  the  world,  but  which, 
either  misled  by  error  or  passion,  or  compelled  by  necessity, 
they  squandered  uselessly  on  unworthy  or  unfruitful  objects,  or 
even  wasted  in  play.  If  we  saw  all  this,  we  would  shudder  and 
lament  at  the  thought  of  the  lost  treasures  of  whole  periods 
of  the  world.  But  the  earth-spirit  would  smile  and  say,  "The 
source  from  which  the  individuals  and  their  powers  proceed  is 
inexhaustible  and  unending  as  time  and  space;  for,  like  these 
forms  of  all  phenomena,  they  also  are  only  phenomena,  visibility 
of  the  will.  No  finite  measure  can  exhaust  that  infinite  source ; 
therefore  an  undiminished  eternity  is  always  open  for  the  return 
of  any  event  or  work  that  was  nipped  in  the  bud.  In  this  world 
of  phenomena  true  loss  is  just  as  little  possible  as  true  gain.  The 


656  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

will  alone  is ;  it  is  the  thing-in-itself,  and  the  source  of  all  these 
phenomena.  Its  self-knowledge  and  its  assertion  or  denial, 
which  is  then  decided  upon,  is  the  only  event  in-itself." 

§  36.  History  follows  the  thread  of  events;  it  is  pragmatic 
so  far  as  it  deduces  them  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  motiva- 
tion, a  law  that  determines  the  self-manifesting  will  wherever  it 
is  enlightened  by  knowledge.  At  the  lowest  grades  of  its  objec- 
tivity, where  it  still  acts  without  knowledge,  natural  science,  in 
the  form  of  etiology,  treats  of  the  laws  of  the  changes  of  its  phe- 
nomena, and,  in  the  form  of  morphology,  of  what  is  permanent 
in  them.  This  almost  endless  task  is  lightened  by  the  aid  of  con- 
cepts, which  comprehend  what  is  general  in  order  that  we  may 
deduce  what  is  particular  from  it.  Lastly,  mathematics  treats 
of  the  mere  forms,  time  and  space,  in  which  the  Ideas,  broken  up 
into  multiplicity,  appear  for  the  knowledge  of  the  subject  as  in- 
dividual. All  these,  of  which  the  common  name  is  science,  pro- 
ceed according  to  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  in  its  different 
forms,  and  their  theme  is  always  the  phenomenon,  its  laws,  con- 
nections, and  the  relations  which  result  from  them.  But  what 
kind  of  knowledge  is  concerned  with  that  which  is  outside  and 
independent  of  all  relations,  that  which  alone  is  really  essential 
to  the  world,  the  true  content  of  its  phenomena,  that  which  is 
subject  to  no  change,  and  therefore  is  known  with  equal  truth 
for  all  time,  in  a  word,  the  Ideas,  which  are  the  direct  and  ade- 
quate objectivity  of  the  thing-in-itself,  the  will?  We  answer, 
Art,  the  work  of  genius.  It  repeats  or  reproduces  the  eternal 
Ideas  grasped  through  pure  contemplation,  the  essential  and 
abiding  in  all  the  phenomena  of  the  world;  and  according  to 
what  the  material  is  in  which  it  reproduces,  it  is  sculpture  or 
painting,  poetry  or  music.  Its  one  source  is  the  knowledge  of 
Ideas ;  its  one  aim  the  communication  of  this  knowledge.  While 
science,  following  the  unresting  and  inconstant  stream  of  the 
fourfold  forms  of  reason  and  consequent,  with  each  end  attained 
sees  further,  and  can  never  reach  a  final  goal  nor  attain  full 
satisfaction,  any  more  than  by  running  we  can  reach  the  place 
where  the  clouds  touch  the  horizon;  art,  on  the  contrary,  is 
everywhere  at  its  goal.  For  it  plucks  the  object  of  its  contem- 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     657 

plation  out  of  the  stream  of  the  world's  course,  and  has  it  isolated 
before  it.  And  this  particular  thing,  which  in  that  stream  was  a 
small  perishing  part,  becomes  to  art  the  representative  of  the 
whole,  an  equivalent  of  the  endless  multitude  in  space  and  time. 
It  therefore  pauses  at  this  particular  thing;  the  course  of  time 
stops;  the  relations  vanish  for  it;  only  the  essential,  the  Idea, 
is  its  object.  We  may,  therefore,  accurately  define  it  as  the  way 
of  viewing  things  independent  of  the  principle  oj  sufficient  reason, 
in  opposition  to  the  way  of  viewing  them  which  proceeds  in 
accordance  with  that  principle,  and  which  is  the  method  of  ex- 
perience and  of  science.  This  last  method  of  considering  things 
may  be  compared  to  a  line  infinitely  extended  in  a  horizontal 
direction,  and  the  former  to  a  vertical  line  which  cuts  it  at  any 
point.  The  method  of  viewing  things  which  proceeds  in  accord- 
ance with  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason  is  the  rational  method, 
and  it  alone  is  valid  and  of  use  in  practical  life  and  in  science. 
The  method  which  looks  away  from  the  content  of  this  principle 
is  the  method  of  genius,  which  is  only  valid  and  of  use  in  art. 
The  first  is  the  method  of  Aristotle ;  the  second  is,  on  the  whole, 
that  of  Plato.  The  first  is  like  the  mighty  storm,  that  rushes 
along  without  beginning  and  without  aim,  bending,  agitating, 
and  carrying  aw^ay  everything  before  it;  the  second  is  like  the 
silent  sunbeam,  that  pierces  through  the  storm  quite  unaffected 
by  it.  The  first  is  like  the  innumerable  showering  drops  of  the 
waterfall,  which,  constantly  changing,  never  rest  for  an  instant ; 
the  second  is  like  the  rainbow,  quietly  resting  on  this  raging 
torrent.  Only  through  the  pure  contemplation  described  above, 
which  ends  entirely  hi  the  object,  can  Ideas  be  comprehended ; 
and  the  nature  of  genius  consists  in  pre-eminent  capacity  for 
such  contemplation.  Now,  as  this  requires  that  a  man  should 
entirely  forget  himself  and  the  relations  in  which  he  stands, 
genius  is  simply  the  completest  objectivity,  i.  e.,  the  objective 
tendency  of  the  mind,  as  opposed  to  the  subjective,  which  is 
directed  to  one's  own  self  —  in  other  words,  to  the  will.  Thus 
genius  is  the  faculty  of  continuing  in  the  state  of  pure  perception, 
of  losing  oneself  in  perception,  and  of  enlisting  in  this  service 
the  knowledge  which  originally  existed  only  for  the  service  of  the 


658  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

will ;  that  is  to  say,  genius  is  the  power  of  leaving  one's  own 
interests,  wishes,  and  aims  entirely  out  of  sight,  thus  of  entirely 
renouncing  one's  own  personality  for  a  time,  so  as  to  remain 
pure  knowing  subject,  clear  vision  of  the  world;  and  this  not 
merely  at  moments,  but  for  a  sufficient  length  of  time,  and  with 
sufficient  consciousness,  to  enable  one  to  reproduce  by  deliberate 
art  what  has  thus  been  apprehended,  and  "to  fix  in  lasting 
thoughts  the  wavering  images  that  float  before  the  mind."  It  is 
as  if,  when  genius  appears  in  an  individual,  a  far  larger  measure 
of  the  power  of  knowledge  falls  to  his  lot  than  is  necessary  for 
the  service  of  an  individual  will;  and  this  superfluity  of  know- 
ledge, being  free,  now  becomes  subject  purified  from  will,  a 
clear  mirror  of  the  inner  nature  of  the  world.  This  explains  the 
activity,  amounting  even  to  disquietude,  of  men  of  genius,  for 
the  present  can  seldom  satisfy  them,  because  it  does  not  fill  their 
consciousness.  This  gives  them  that  restless  aspiration,  that 
unceasing  desire  for  new  things,  and  for  the  contemplation  of 
lofty  things,  and  also  that  longing  that  is  hardly  ever  satisfied, 
for  men  of  similar  nature  and  of  like  stature,  to  whom  they  might 
communicate  themselves;  whilst  the  common  mortal,  entirely 
filled  and  satisfied  by  the  common  present,  ends  in  it,  and  finding 
everywhere  his  like,  enjoys  that  peculiar  satisfaction  in  daily 
life  that  is  denied  to  genius. 


BOOK  IV.     THE  ASSERTION  AND  DENIAL  OF 
THE    WILL 

§  57.  At  every  grade  that  is  enlightened  by  knowledge,  the 
will  appears  as  an  individual.  The  human  individual  finds 
himself  as  finite  in  infinite  space  and  time,  and  consequently  as 
a  vanishing  quantity  compared  with  them.  He  is  projected  into 
them,  and,  on  account  of  their  unlimited  nature,  he  has  always 
a  merely  relative,  never  absolute  when  and  where  of  his  exist- 
ence ;  for  his  place  and  duration  are  finite  parts  of  what  is  infinite 
and  boundless.  His  real  existence  is  only  in  the  present,  whose 
unchecked  flight  into  the  past  is  a  constant  transition  into  death, 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     659 

a  constant  dying.  For  his  past  life,  apart  from  its  possible  con- 
sequences for  the  present,  and  the  testimony  regarding  the  will 
that  is  expressed  in  it,  is  now  entirely  done  with,  dead,  and  no 
longer  anything ;  and,  therefore,  it  must  be,  as  a  matter  of  reason, 
indifferent  to  him  whether  the  content  of  that  past  was  pain  or 
pleasure.  But  the  present  is  always  passing  through  his  hands 
into  the  past;  the  future  is  quite  uncertain  and  always  short. 
Thus  his  existence,  even  when  we  consider  only  its  formal  side, 
is  a  constant  hurrying  of  the  present  into  the  dead  past,  a 
constant  dying.  But  if  we  look  at  it  from  the  physical  side,  it 
is  clear  that,  as  our  walking  is  admittedly  merely  a  constantly 
prevented  falling,  the  life  of  our  body  is  only  a  constantly  pre- 
vented dying,  an  ever- postponed  death :  finally,  in  the  same  way, 
the  activity  of  our  mind  is  a  constantly  deferred  ennui.  Every 
breath  we  draw  wards  off  the  death  that  is  constantly  intruding 
upon  us.  In  this  way  we  fight  with  it  every  moment,  and  again, 
at  longer  intervals,  through  every  meal  we  eat,  every  sleep  we 
take,  every  time  we  warm  ourselves,  etc.  In  the  end,  death 
must  conquer,  for  we  became  subject  to  him  through  birth,  and 
he  only  plays  for  a  little  while  with  his  prey  before  he  swallows 
it  up.  We  pursue  our  life,  however,  with  great  interest  and  much 
solicitude  as  long  as  possible,  as  we  blow  out  a  soap-bubble  as 
long  and  as  large  as  possible,  although  we  know  perfectly  well 
that  it  will  burst. 

We  saw  that  the  inner  being  of  unconscious  nature  is  a  con- 
stant striving  without  end  and  without  rest.  And  this  appears, 
to  us  much  more  distinctly  when  we  consider  the  nature  of  brutes 
and  man.  Willing  and  striving  is  its  whole  being,  which  may 
be  very  well  compared  to  an  unquenchable  thirst.  But  the  basis 
of  all  willing  is  need,  deficiency,  and  thus  pain.  Consequently, 
the  nature  of  brutes  and  man  is  subject  to  pain  originally  and 
through  its  very  being.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  lacks  objects  of 
desire,  because  it  is  at  once  deprived  of  them  by  a  too  easy  satis- 
faction, a  terrible  void  and  ennui  comes  over  it,  i.  e.,  its  being 
and  existence  itself  becomes  an  unbearable  burden  to  it.  Thus 
its  life  swings  like  a  pendulum  backwards  and  forwards  between 
pain  and  ennui.  This  has  also  had  to  express  itself  very  oddly 


66o  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

in  this  way ;  after  man  had  transferred  all  pain  and  torments  to 
hell,  there  then  remained  nothing  over  for  heaven  but  ennui. 

But  the  constant  striving  which  constitutes  the  inner  nature 
of  every  manifestation  of  will  obtains  its  primary  and  most 
general  foundation  at  the  higher  grades  of  objectification,  from 
the  fact  that  here  the  will  manifests  itself  as  a  living  body,  with 
the  iron  command  to  nourish  it ;  and  what  gives  strength  to  this 
command  is  just  that  this  body  is  nothing  but  the  objectified 
will  to  live  itself.  Man,  as  the  most  complete  objectification  of 
that  will,  is  in  like  measure  also  the  most  necessitous  of  all  be- 
ings: he  is  through  and  through  concrete  willing  and  needing; 
he  is  a  concretion  of  a  thousand  necessities.  With  these  he  stands 
upon  the  earth,  left  to  himself,  uncertain  about  everything  ex- 
cept his  own  need  and  misery.  Consequently  the  care  for  the 
maintenance  of  that  existence  under  exacting  demands,  which 
are  renewed  every  day,  occupies,  as  a  rule,  the  whole  of  human 
life.  To  this  is  directly  related  the  second  claim,  that  of  the 
propagation  of  the  species.  At  the  same  time  he  is  threatened 
from  all  sides  by  the  most  different  kinds  of  dangers,  from  which 
it  requires  constant  watchfulness  to  escape.  With  cautious  steps 
and  casting  anxious  glances  round  him  he  pursues  his  path,  for 
a  thousand  accidents  and  a  thousand  enemies  lie  in  wait  for  him. 
Thus  he  went  while  yet  a  savage,  thus  he  goes  in  civilised  life ; 
there  is  no  security  for  him. 

"  Qualibus  in  tenebris  vitae,  quantisque  periclis 
Degitur  hocc'  aevi,  quodcunque  est !  "  —  LUCR.  ii,  15. 

The  life  of  the  great  majority  is  only  a  constant  struggle  for  this 
existence  itself,  with  the  certainty  of  losing  it  at  last.  But  what 
enables  them  to  endure  this  wearisome  battle  is  not  so  much 
the  love  of  life  as  the  fear  of  death,  which  yet  stands  in  the  back- 
ground as  inevitable,  and  may  come  upon  them  at  any  moment. 
Life  itself  is  a  sea,  full  of  rocks  and  whirlpools,  which  man  avoids 
with  the  greatest  care  and  solicitude,  although  he  knows  that 
even  if  he  succeeds  in  getting  through  with  all  his  efforts  and 
skill,  he  yet  by  doing  so  comes  nearer  at  every  step  to  the  great- 
est, the  total,  inevitable,  and  irremediable  shipwreck,  death ;  nay, 
even  steers  right  upon  it :  this  is  the  final  goal  of  the  laborious 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     661 

voyage,  and  worse  for  him  than  all  the  rocks  from  which  he  has 
escaped. 

Now  it  is  well  worth  observing  that,  on  the  one  hand,  the  suf- 
fering and  misery  of  life  may  easily  increase  to  such  an  extent 
that  death  itself,  in  the  flight  from  which  the  whole  of  life  con- 
sists, becomes  desirable,  and  we  hasten  towards  it  voluntarily; 
and  again,  on  the  other  hand,  that  as  soon  as  want  and  suffering 
permit  rest  to  a  man,  ennui  is  at  once  so  near  that  he  necessarily 
requires  diversion.  The  striving  after  existence  is  what  occupies 
all  living  things  and  maintains  them  in  motion.  But  when  exist- 
ence is  assured,  then  they  know  not  what  to  do  with  it ;  thus  the 
second  thing  that  sets  them  in  motion  is  the  effort  to  get  free 
from  the  burden  of  existence,  to  make  it  cease  to  be  felt,  "to  kill 
time,"  i.  e.,  to  escape  from  ennui.  Accordingly  we  see  that  al- 
most all  men  who  are  secure  from  want  and  care,  now  that  at 
last  they  have  thrown  off  all  other  burdens,  become  a  burden  to 
themselves,  and  regard  as  a  gain  every  hour  they  succeed  in 
getting  through,  and  thus  every  diminution  of  the  very  life  which, 
till  then,  they  have  employed  all  their  powers  to  maintain  as 
long  as  possible.  Ennui  is  by  no  means  an  evil  to  be  lightly 
esteemed ;  in  the  end  it  depicts  on  the  countenance  real  despair. 
It  makes  beings  who  love  each  other  so  little  as  men  do,  seek 
each  other  eagerly,  and  thus  becomes  the  source  of  social  inter- 
course. Moreover,  even  from  motives  of  policy,  public  precau- 
tions are  everywhere  taken  against  it,  as  against  other  universal 
calamities.  For  this  evil  may  drive  men  to  the  greatest  excesses, 
just  as  much  as  its  opposite  extreme,  famine :  the  people  require 
panem  et  circenses.  The  strict  penitentiary  system  of  Philadel- 
phia makes  use  of  ennui  alone  as  a  means  of  punishment,  through 
solitary  confinement  and  idleness,  and  it  is  found  so  terrible  that 
it  has  even  led  prisoners  to  commit  suicide.  As  want  is  the  con- 
stant scourge  of  the  people,  so  ennui  is  that  of  the  fashionable 
world.  In  middle-class  life  ennui  is  represented  by  the  Sunday, 
and  want  by  the  six  week-days. 

Thus  between  desiring  and  attaining  all  human  life  flows  on 
throughout.  The  wish  is,  in  its  nature,  pain;  the  attainment 
soon  begets  satiety:  the  end  was  only  apparent;  possession 


662  ARTHUR    SCHOPENHAUER 

takes  away  the  charm;  the  wish,  the  need,  presents  itself  under 
a  new  form ;  when  it  does  not,  then  follows  desolatcness,  empti- 
ness, ennui,  against  which  the  conflict  is  just  as  painful  as  against 
want.  That  wish  and  satisfaction  should  follow  each  other 
neither  too  quickly  nor  too  slowly  reduces  the  suffering  which 
both  occasion  to  the  smallest  amount,  and  constitutes  the  hap- 
piest life.  For  that  which  we  might  otherwise  call  the  most 
beautiful  part  of  life,  its  purest  joy,  if  it  were  only  because  it 
lifts  us  out  of  real  existence  and  transforms  us  into  disinterested 
spectators  of  it  —  that  is,  pure  knowledge,  which  is  foreign  to  all 
willing,  the  pleasure  of  the  beautiful,  the  true  delight  hi  art  - 
this  is  granted  only  to  a  very  few,  because  it  demands  rare  talents, 
and  to  these  few  only  as  a  passing  dream.  And  then,  even  these 
few,  on  account  of  their  higher  intellectual  power,  are  made 
susceptible  of  far  greater  suffering  than  duller  minds  can  ever 
feel,  and  are  also  placed  in  lonely  isolation  by  a  nature  which  is 
obviously  different  from  that  of  others ;  thus  here  also  accounts 
are  squared.  But  to  the  great  majority  of  men  purely  intellectual 
pleasures  are  not  accessible.  They  are  almost  quite  incapable 
of  the  joys  which  lie  in  pure  knowledge.  They  are  entirely  given 
up  to  willing.  If,  therefore,  anything  is  to  win  their  sympathy, 
to  be  interesting  to  them,  it  must  (as  is  implied  in  the  meaning 
of  the  word)  in  some  way  excite  their  will,  even  if  it  is  only 
through  a  distant  and  merely  problematical  relation  to  it;  the 
will  must  not  be  left  altogether  out  of  the  question,  for  their 
existence  lies  far  more  in  willing  than  in  knowing,  —  action  and 
reaction  is  their  one  element.  We  may  find  in  trifles  and  every- 
day occurrences  the  naive  expressions  of  this  quality.  Thus,  for 
example,  at  any  place  worth  seeing  they  may  visit,  they  write 
their  names,  in  order  thus  to  react,  to  affect  the  place  since  it 
does  not  affect  them.  Again,  when  they  see  a  strange,  rare 
animal,  they  cannot  easily  confine  themselves  to  merely  observing 
it ;  they  must  rouse  it,  tease  it,  play  with  it,  merely  to  experience 
action  and  reaction;  but  this  need  for  excitement  of  the  will 
manifests  itself  very  specially  in  the  discovery  and  support  of 
card-playing,  which  is  quite  peculiarly  the  expression  of  the 
miserable  side  of  humanity. 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     663 

But  whatever  nature  and  fortune  may  have  done,  whoever  a 
man  be  and  whatever  he  may  possess,  the  pain  which  is  essential 
to  life  cannot  be  thrown  off :  n^AeiSrjs  8'  $pu$cv,  l&w  ek  ovpavbv 
cvpvv.  (Pelides  autem  ejulavit,  intuitus  in  coelum  latum.)  And 

again  :  ZT/I/OS  pw  TTCU?  5a  Kpoviovos,  avrap  oi£vv  et^ov  &**Lpc<rur)V.    ( Jovis 

quidem  filius  eram  Saturnii ;  verum  aerumnam  habebam  infini- 
tam).  The  ceaseless  efforts  to  banish  suffering  accomplish  no 
more  than  to  make  it  change  its  form.  It  is  essentially  defi- 
ciency, want,  care  for  the  maintenance  of  life.  If  we  succeed, 
which  is  very  difficult,  in  removing  pain  in  this  form,  it  imme- 
diately assumes  a  thousand  others,  varying  according  to  age  and 
circumstances,  such  as  lust,  passionate  love,  jealousy,  envy, 
hatred,  anxiety,  ambition,  covetousness,  sickness,  etc.,  etc.  If 
at  last  it  can  find  entrance  in  no  other  form,  it  comes  in  the  sad, 
grey  garments  of  tediousness  and  ennui,  against  which  we  then 
strive  in  various  ways.  If  finally  we  succeed  in  driving  this 
away,  we  shall  hardly  do  so  without  letting  pain  enter  in  one  of 
its  earlier  forms,  and  the  dance  begin  again  from  the  begnining ; 
for  -all  human  life  is  tossed  backwards  and  forwards  between 
pain  and  ennui. 

§  58.  All  satisfaction,  or  what  is  commonly  called  happiness, 
is  always  really  and  essentially  only  negative,  and  never  positive. 
It  is  not  an  original  gratification  coming  to  us  of  itself,  but  must 
always  be  the  satisfaction  of  a  wish.  The  wish,  i.  e.,  some  want, 
is  the  condition  which  precedes  every  pleasure.  But  with  the 
satisfaction  the  wish  and  therefore  the  pleasure  cease.  Thus 
the  satisfaction  or  the  pleasing  can  never  be  more  than  the  de- 
liverance from  a  pain,  from  a  want;  for  such  is  not  only  every 
actual,  open  sorrow,  but  every  desire,  the  importunity  of  which 
disturbs  our  peace,  and,  indeed,  the  deadening  ennui  also  that 
makes  life  a  burden  to  us.  It  is,  however,  so  hard  to  attain  or 
achieve  anything;  difficulties  and  troubles  without  end  are  op- 
posed to  every  purpose,  and  at  every  step  hindrances  accumu- 
late. But  when  finally  everything  is  overcome  and  attained, 
nothing  can  ever  be  gained  but  deliverance  from  some  sorrow  or 
desire,  so  that  we  find  ourselves  just  in  the  same  position  as  we 


664.  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

occupied  before  this  sorrow  or  desire  appeared.  All  that  is  even 
directly  given  us  is  merely  the  want,  i.  e.,  the  pain.  The  satis- 
faction and  the  pleasure  we  can  only  know  indirectly  through 
the  remembrance  of  the  preceding  suffering  and  want,  which 
ceases  with  its  appearance.  Hence  it  arises  that  we  are  not 
properly  conscious  of  the  blessings  and  advantages  we  actually 
possess,  nor  do  we  prize  them,  but  think  of  them  merely  as  a 
matter  of  course,  for  they  gratify  us  only  negatively  by  restrain- 
ing suffering.  Only  when  we  have  lost  them  do  we  become 
sensible  of  their  value ;  for  the  want,  the  privation,  the  sorrow, 
is  the  positive,  communicating  itself  directly  to  us.  Thus  also 
we  are  pleased  by  the  remembrance  of  past  need,  sickness,  want, 
and  such  like,  because  this  is  the  only  means  of  enjoying  the 
present  blessings.  And,  further,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  in  this 
respect,  and  from  this  standpoint  of  egoism,  which  is  the  form 
of  the  will  to  live,  the  sight  or  the  description  of  the  sufferings 
of  others  affords  us  satisfaction  and  pleasure  in  precisely  the 
way  Lucretius  beautifully  and  frankly  expresses  it  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Second  Book :  — 

"  Suave,  rriari  magno,  turbantibus  aequora  ventis, 
E  terra  magnum  alterius  spectare  laborem  : 
Non,  quia  vexari  quemquam  est  jucunda  voluptas ; 
Sed,  quibus  ipse  mails  careas,  quia  cernere  suave  est." 

Yet  we  shall  see  farther  on  that  this  kind  of  pleasure,  through 
knowledge  of  our  own  well-being  obtained  in  this  way,  lies  very 
near  the  source  of  real,  positive  wickedness. 

That  all  happiness  is  only  of  a  negative  not  a  positive  nature, 
that  just  on  this  account  it  cannot  be  lasting  satisfaction  and 
gratification,  but  merely  delivers  us  from  some  pain  or  want 
which  must  be  followed  either  by  a  new  pain,  or  by  languor, 
empty  longing,  and  ennui;  this  finds  support  in  art,  that  true 
mirror  of  the  world  and  life,  and  especially  in  poetry.  Every 
epic  and  dramatic  poem  can  only  represent  a  struggle,  an  effort, 
and  fight  for  happiness,  never  enduring  and  complete  happiness 
itself.  It  conducts  its  heroes  through  a  thousand  difficulties  and 
dangers  to  the  goal ;  as  soon  as  this  is  reached,  it  hastens  to  let 
the  curtain  fall ;  for  now  there  would  remain  nothing  for  it  to  do 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     665 

but  to  show  that  the  glittering  goal  in  which  the  hero  expected 
to  find  happiness  had  only  disappointed  him,  and  that  after  its 
attainment  he  was  no  better  off  than  before.  Because  a  genuine 
enduring  happiness  is  not  possible,  it  cannot  be  the  subject  of 
art.  Certainly  the  aim  of  the  idyll  is  the  description  of  such  a 
happiness,  but  one  also  sees  that  the  idyll  as  such  cannot  con- 
tinue. The  poet  always  finds  that  it  either  becomes  epical  in  his 
hands,  and  in  this  case  it  is  a  very  insignificant  epic,  made  up  of 
trifling  sorrows,  trifling  delights,  and  trifling  efforts  —  this  is  the 
commonest  case  —  or  else  it  becomes  a  merely  descriptive  poem, 
describing  the  beauty  of  nature,  i.  e.,  pure  knowing  free  from 
will,  which  certainly,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is  the  only  pure  happi- 
ness, which  is  neither  preceded  by  suffering  or  want,  nor  neces- 
sarily followed  by  repentance,  sorrow,  emptiness,  or  satiety; 
but  this  happiness  cannot  fill  the  whole  life,  but  is  only  possible 
at  moments.  What  we  see  in  poetry  we  find  again  in  music; 
in  the  melodies  of  which  we  have  recognised  the  universal  ex- 
pression of  the  inmost  history  of  the  self-conscious  will,  the  most 
secret  life,  longing,  suffering,  and  delight;  the  ebb  and  flow  of 
the  human  heart.  Melody  is  always  a  deviation  from  the  key- 
note through  a  thousand  capricious  wanderings,  even  to  the  most 
painful  discord,  and  then  a  final  return  to  the  keynote  which 
expresses  the  satisfaction  and  appeasing  of  the  will,  but  with 
which  nothing  more  can  then  be  done,  and  the  continuance  of 
which  any  longer  would  only  be  a  wearisome  and  unmeaning 
monotony  corresponding  to  ennui. 

All  that  we  intend  to  bring  out  clearly  through  these  investi- 
gations, the  impossibility  of  attaining  lasting  satisfaction  and 
the  negative  nature  of  all  happiness,  finds  its  explantion  in 
what  is  shown  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Second  Book:  that  the 
will,  of  which  human  life,  like  every  phenomenon,  is  the  ob- 
jectification,  is  a  striving  without  aim  or  end.  We  find  the  stamp 
of  this  endlessness  imprinted  upon  all  the  parts  of  its  whole 
manifestation,  from  its  most  universal  form,  endless  time  and 
space,  up  to  the  most  perfect  of  all  phenomena,  the  life  and 
efforts  of  man.  We  may  theoretically  assume  three  extremes  of 
human  life,  and  treat  them  as  elements  of  actual  human  life. 


666  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

First,  the  powerful  will,  the  strong  passions  (Radscha-Guna). 
It  appears  in  great  historical  characters;  it  is  described  in  the 
epic  and  the  drama.  But  it  can  also  show  itself  in  the  little  world, 
for  the  size  of  the  objects  is  measured  here  by  the  degree  hi 
which  they  influence  the  will,  not  according  to  their  external 
relations.  Secondly,  pure  knowing,  the  comprehension  of  the 
Ideas,  conditioned  by  the  freeing  of  knowledge  from  the  service 
of  will:  the  life  of  genius  (Satwa-Guna).  Thirdly  and  lastly, 
the  greatest  lethargy  of  the  will,  and  also  of  the  knowledge  at- 
taching to  it,  empty  longing,  life-benumbing  languor  (Tama- 
Guna).  The  life  of  the  individual,  far  from  becoming  perma- 
nently fixed  in  one  of  these  extremes,  seldom  touches  any  of 
them,  and  is  for  the  most  part  only  a  weak  and  wavering  approach 
to  one  or  the  other  side,  a  needy  desiring  of  trifling  objects,  con- 
stantly recurring,  and  so  escaping  ennui.  It  is  really  incredible 
how  meaningless  and  void  of  significance  when  looked  at  from 
without,  how  dull  and  unenlightened  by  intellect  when  felt  from 
within,  is  the  course  of  the  life  of  the  great  majority  of  men. 
It  is  a  weary  longing  and  complaining,  a  dream-like  staggering 
through  the  four  ages  of  life  to  death,  accompanied  by  a  series 
of  trivial  thoughts.  Such  men  are  like  clockwork,  which  is  wound 
up,  and  goes  it  knows  not  why ;  and  every  time  a  man  is  begot- 
ten and  born,  the  clock  of  human  life  is  wound  up  anew,  to  re- 
peat the  same  old  piece  it  has  played  innumerable  times  before, 
passage  after  passage,  measure  after  measure,  with  insignificant 
variations.  Every  individual,  every  human  being  and  his  course 
of  life,  is  but  another  short  dream  of  the  endless  spirit  of  na- 
ture, of  the  persistent  will  to  live ;  is  only  another  fleeting  form, 
which  it  carelessly  sketches  on  its  infinite  page,  space  and  time ; 
allows  to  remain  for  a  time  so  short  that  it  vanishes  into  nothing 
in  comparison  with  these,  and  then  obliterates  to  make  new 
room.  And  yet,  and  here  lies  the  serious  side  of  life,  every  one 
of  these  fleeting  forms,  these  empty  fancies,  must  be  paid  for  by 
the  whole  will  to  live,  hi  all  its  activity,  with  many  and  deep 
sufferings,  and  finally  with  a  bitter  death,  long  feared  and  com- 
ing at  last.  This  is  why  the  sight  of  a  corpse  makes  us  suddenly 
so  serious. 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     667 

The  life  of  every  individual,  if  we  survey  it  as  a  whole  and  in 
general,  and  only  lay  stress  upon  its  most  significant  features, 
is  really  always  a  tragedy,  but  gone  through  in  detail,  it  has  the 
character  of  a  comedy.  For  the  deeds  and  vexations  of  the  day, 
the  restless  irritation  of  the  moment,  the  desires  and  fears  of  the 
week,  the  mishaps  of  every  hour,  are  all  through  chance,  which 
is  ever  bent  upon  some  jest,  scenes  of  a  comedy.  But  the  never- 
satisfied  wishes,  the  frustrated  efforts,  the  hopes  unmercifully 
crushed  by  fate,  the  unfortunate  errors  of  the  whole  life,  with 
increasing  suffering  and  death  at  the  end,  are  always  a  tragedy. 
Thus,  as  if  fate  would  add  derision  to  the  misery  of  our  existence, 
our  life  must  contain  all  the  woes  of  tragedy,  and  yet  we  cannot 
even  assert  the  dignity  of  tragic  characters,  but  in  the  broad  de- 
tail of  life  must  inevitably  be  the  foolish  characters  of  a  comedy. 

But  however  much  great  and  small  trials  may  fill  human  life, 
they  are  not  able  to  conceal  its  insufficiency  to  satisfy  the  spirit ; 
they  cannot  hide  the  emptiness  and  superficiality  of  existence, 
nor  exclude  ennui,  which  is  always  ready  to  fill  up  every  pause 
that  care  may  allow.  Hence  it  arises  that  the  human  mind,  not 
content  with  the  cares,  anxieties,  and  occupations  which  the 
actual  world  lays  upon  it,  creates  for  itself  an  imaginary  world 
also  in  the  form  of  a  thousand  different  superstitions,  then  finds 
all  manner  of  employment  with  this,  and  wastes  time  and  strength 
upon  it,  as  soon  as  the  real  world  is  willing  to  grant  it  the  rest 
which  it  is  quite  incapable  of  enjoying.  This  is  accordingly  most 
markedly  the  case  with  nations  for  which  life  is  made  easy  by 
the  congenial  nature  of  the  climate  and  the  soil,  most  of  all  with 
the  Hindus,  then  with  the  Greeks,  the  Romans,  and  later  with 
the  Italians,  the  Spaniards,  etc.  Demons,  gods,  and  saints  man 
creates  in  his  own  image ;  and  to  them  he  must  then  unceasingly 
bring  offerings,  prayers,  temple  decorations,  vows  and  their 
fulfilment,  pilgrimages,  salutations,  ornaments  for  their  images, 
etc.  Their  service  mingles  everywhere  with  the  real,  and,  in- 
deed, obscures  it.  Every  event  of  life  is  regarded  as  the  work  of 
these  beings;  the  intercourse  with  them  occupies  half  the  time 
of  life,  constantly  sustains  hope,  and  by  the  charm  of  illusion 
often  becomes  more  interesting  than  intercourse  with  real  beings. 


668  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

It  is  the  expression  and  symptom  of  the  actual  need  of  mankind, 
partly  for  help  and  support,  partly  for  occupation  and  diversion ; 
and  if  it  often  works  in  direct  opposition  to  the  first  need,  because 
when  accidents  and  dangers  arise  valuable  time  and  strength, 
instead  of  being  directed  to  warding  them  off,  are  uselessly 
wasted  on  prayers  and  offerings;  it  serves  the  second  end  all 
the  better  by  this  imaginary  converse  with  a  visionary  spirit 
world;  and  this  is  the  by  no  means  contemptible  gain  of  all 
superstitions. 

§  68.  All  suffering,  since  it  is  a  mortification  and  a  call  to 
resignation,  has  potentially  a  sanctifying  power.  This  is  the 
explanation  of  the  fact  that  every  great  misfortune  or  deep  pain 
inspires  a  certain  awe.  But  the  sufferer  only  really  becomes  an 
object  of  reverence  when,  surveying  the  course  of  his  life  as  a 
chain  of  sorrows,  or  mourning  some  great  and  incurable  mis- 
fortune, he  does  not  really  look  at  the  special  combination  of 
circumstances  which  has  plunged  his  own  life  into  suffering, 
nor  stops  at  the  single  great  misfortune  that  has  befallen  him; 
for  in  so  doing  his  knowledge  still  follows  the  principle  of  suffi- 
cient reason,  and  clings  to  the  particular  phenomenon;  he  still 
wills  life,  only  not  under  the  conditions  which  have  happened  to 
him ;  but  only  then,  I  say,  is  he  truly  worthy  of  reverence  when 
he  raises  his  glance  from  the  particular  to  the  universal,  when  he 
regards  his  suffering  as  merely  an  example  of  the  whole,  and 
for  him,  since  in  a  moral  regard  he  partakes  of  genius,  one 
case  stands  for  a  thousand,  so  that  the  whole  of  life  conceived 
as  essentially  suffering  brings  him  to  resignation.  Therefore  it 
inspires  reverence  when  in  Goethe's  "Torquato  Tasso"  the 
princess  speaks  of  how  her  own  life  and  that  of  her  relations  has 
always  been  sad  and  joyless,  and  yet  regards  the  matter  from 
an  entirely  universal  point  of  view. 

A  very  noble  character  we  always  imagine  with  a  certain 
trace  of  quiet  sadness,  which  is  anything  but  a  constant  fretful- 
ness  at  daily  annoyances  (this  would  be  an  ignoble  trait,  and 
lead  us  to  fear  a  bad  disposition),  but  is  a  consciousness  derived 
from  knowledge  of  the  vanity  of  all  possessions,  of  the  suffering 
of  all  life,  not  merely  of  his  own.  But  such  knowledge  may  pri- 


THE  WORLD   AS   WILL  AND   IDEA     669 

marily  be  awakened  by  the  personal  experience  of  suffering, 
especially  some  one  great  sorrow,  as  a  single  unfulfilled  wish 
brought  Petrarch  to  that  state  of  resigned  sadness  concerning 
the  whole  of  life  which  appeals  to  us  so  pathetically  in  his  works ; 
for  the  Daphne  he  pursued  had  to  flee  from  his  hands  in  order 
to  leave  him,  instead  of  herself,  the  immortal  laurel.  When 
through  some  such  great  and  irrevocable  denial  of  fate  the  will 
is  to  some  extent  broken,  almost  nothing  else  is  desired,  and 
the  character  shows  itself  mild,  just,  noble,  and  resigned.  When, 
finally,  grief  has  no  definite  object,  but  extends  itself  over  the 
whole  of  life,  then  it  is  to  a  certain  extent  a  going  into  itself,  a 
withdrawal,  a  gradual  disappearance  of  the  will,  whose  visible 
manifestation,  the  body,  it  imperceptibly  but  surely  undermines, 
so  that  a  man  feels  a  certain  loosening  of  his  bonds,  a  mild  fore- 
taste of  that  death  which  promises  to  be  the  abolition  at  once  of 
the  body  and  of  the  will.  Therefore  a  secret  pleasure  accompa- 
nies this  grief,  and  it  is  this,  as  I  believe,  which  the  most  mel- 
ancholy of  all  nations  has  called  "the  joy  of  grief."  But  here 
also  lies  the  danger  of  sentimentality,  both  in  life  itself  and  in  the 
representation  of  it  in  poetry ;  when  a  man  is  always  mourning 
and  lamenting  without  courageously  rising  to  resignation.  In 
this  way  we  lose  both  earth  and  heaven,  and  retain  merely  a 
watery  sentimentality.  Only  if  suffering  assumes  the  form  of 
pure  knowledge,  and  this,  acting  as  a  quieter  oj  the  will,  brings 
about  resignation,  is  it  worthy  of  reverence.  In  this  regard, 
however,  we  feel  a  certain  respect  at  the  sight  of  every  great 
sufferer  which  is  akin  to  the  feeling  excited  by  virtue  and  nobility 
of  character,  and  also  seems  like  a  reproach  of  our  own  happy 
condition.  We  cannot  help  regarding  every  sorrow,  both  our 
own  and  those  of  others,  as  at  least  a  potential  advance  towards 
virtue  and  holiness,  and,  on  the  contrary,  pleasures  and  worldly 
satisfactions  as  a  retrogression  from  them.  This  goes  so  far, 
that  every  man  who  endures  a  great  bodily  or  mental  suffering, 
indeed  every  one  who  merely  performs  some  physical  labour 
which  demands  the  greatest  exertion,  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow 
and  with  evident  exhaustion,  yet  with  patience  and  without 
murmuring,  every  such  man,  I  say,  if  we  consider  him  with  close 


670  ARTHUR   SCHOPENHAUER 

attention,  appears  to  us  like  a  sick  man  who  tries  a  painful  cure, 
and  who  willingly,  and  even  with  satisfaction,  endures  the  suffer- 
ing it  causes  him,  because  he  knows  that  the  more  he  suffers 
the  more  the  cause  of  his  disease  is  affected,  and  that  therefore 
the  present  suffering  is  the  measure  of  his  cure. 

According  to  what  has  been  said,  the  denial  of  the  will  to  live, 
which  is  just  what  is  called  absolute,  entire  resignation,  or  holi- 
ness, always  proceeds  from  that  quieter  of  the  will  which  the 
knowledge  of  its  inner  conflict  and  essential  vanity,  expressing 
themselves  in  the  suffering  of  all  living  things,  becomes.  The 
difference,  which  we  have  represented  as  two  paths,  consists  in 
whether  that  knowledge  is  called  up  by  suffering  which  is  merely 
and  purely  known,  and  is  freely  appropriated  by  means  of  the 
penetration  of  the  principium  individuationis,  or  by  suffering 
/  which  is  directly  felt  by  a  man  himself.  True  salvation,  deliver- 
ance from  life  and  suffering,  cannot  even  be  imagined  without 
complete  denial  of  the  will.  Till  then,  every  one  is  simply  this 
will  itself,  whose  manifestation  is  an  ephemeral  existence,  a 
constantly  vain  and  empty  striving,  and  the  world  full  of  suffer- 
ing we  have  represented,  to  which  all  irrevocably  and  in  like 
manner  belong.  For  we  found  above  that  life  is  always  assured 
to  the  will  to  live,  and  its  one  real  form  is  the  present,  from  which 
they  can  never  escape,  since  birth  and  death  reign  hi  the  phe- 
nomenal world.  The  Indian  mythus  expresses  this  by  saying 
"they  are  born  again."  The  great  ethical  difference  of  char- 
acter means  this,  that  the  bad  man  is  infinitely  far  from  the  at- 
tainment of  the  knowledge  from  which  the  denial  of  the  will 
proceeds,  and  therefore  he  is  in  truth  actually  exposed  to  all  the 
miseries  which  appear  in  life  as  possible;  for  even  the  present 
fortunate  condition  of  his  personality  is  merely  a  phenomenon 
produced  by  the  principium  individuationis ,  and  a  delusion  of 
Maya,  the  happy  dream  of  a  beggar.  The  sufferings  which  in  -, 
the  vehemence  and  ardour  of  his  will  he  inflicts  upon  others  are 
the  measure  of  the  suffering,  the  experience  of  which  in  his  own 
person  cannot  break  his  will,  and  plainly  lead  it  to  the  denial  of 
itself.  All  true  and  pure  love,  on  the  other  hand,  and  even  all 
free  justice,  proceed  from  the  penetration  of  the  principium  j 


THE   WORLD   AS   WILL   AND   IDEA     671 

individuationis,  which,  if  it  appears  with  its  full  power,  results 
in  perfect  sanctification  and  salvation,  the  phenomenon  of  which 
is  the  state  of  resignation  described  above,  the  unbroken  peace 
which  accompanies  it,  and  the  greatest  delight  in  death. 


AUGUSTE  COMTE 

(1798-1857) 

THE  POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY 

Freely  translated  and  condensed  from  the  French*  by 
HARRIET    MARTINEAU 

INTRODUCTION 

CHAPTER  I.     VIEW  OF  THE   NATURE   AND   IM- 
PORTANCE OF  THE  POSITIVE  PHILOSOPHY 

A  GENERAL  statement  of  any  system  of  philosophy  may  be  either 
a  sketch  of  a  doctrine  to  be  established,  or  a  summary  of  a  doc- 
trine already  established.  If  greater  value  belongs  to  the  last, 
the  first  is  still  important,  as  characterizing  from  its  origin  the 
subject  to  be  treated.  In  a  case  like  the  present,  where  the  pro- 
posed study  is  vast  and  hitherto  indeterminate,  it  is  especially 
important  that  the  field  of  research  should  be  marked  out  with 
all  possible  accuracy.  For  this  purpose,  I  will  glance  at  the  con- 
siderations which  have  originated  this  work,  and  which  will  be 
fully  elaborated  in  the  course  of  it. 

In  order  to  understand  the  true  value  and  character  of  the  Posi- 
tive Philosophy,  we  must  take  a  brief  generaLvJew-oflhe  pro- 
^gressive  course  of  the  human  mind,  regarded  as  a  whole ;  for  no 
conceptionTcan  be  understood  otherwise  than  through  its  history. 
From  the  study  of  the  development  of  human  intelligence,  in 
all  directions,  and  through  all  times,  the  discovery  arises  of  a 
great  fundamental  law,  to  which  it  is  necessarily  subject,  and 
which  has  a  solid  foundation  of  proof,  both  in  the  facts  of  our 
organization  and  in  our  historical  experience.   The  law  is  this : 
—  that  each  of  our  leading  conceptions,  —  each  branch  of  our 
knowledge,  —  passes  successively  through  three  different  theo- 

*  From  the  Cours  de  Philosophic  positive,  Paris,  1830-1842.     Reprinted  from 
A.-Comte's  The  Positive  Philosophy,  London,  1853,  vol.  i,  ch.  i. 


THE   POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY  673 

retical  conditions  :  the  Theological,  or  fictitious  ;  the  Metaphys- 
ical, or  abstract  ;  and  the  Scientific,  or  positive.  In  other  words, 
the  human  mind,  by  its  nature,  employs  in  its  progress  three 
methods  of  philosophizing,  the  character  of  which  is  essen- 
tially different,  and  even  radically  opposed  :  viz.,  the  theological 
method,  the  metaphysical,  and  the  positive.  Hence  arise  three 
philosophies,  or  general  systems  of  conceptions  on  the  aggregate 
of  phenomena,  each  of  which  excludes  the  others.  The  first  is 
the  necessary  point  of  departure  of  the  human  understanding; 
and  the  third  is  its  fixed  and  definitive  state.  The  second  is 
merely  a  state  of  transition. 

In  the  theological  state,  the  human  mind,  seeking  the  essen- 
tial nature  of  beings,  the  first  and  final  causes  (the  origin  and 
purpose)  of  all  effects,  —  in  short,  Absolute  knowledge,  —  sup- 
poses all  phenomena^  frf  prnrhifWj  fry  tn 


of^supernaturaljbemgs. 

In  the  metaphysical  state,  which  is  only  a  modification  of  the 
first,  the  mind  supposes,  instead  of  supernatural  beings,  abstract 
Jorces,  veritable_entities  (that  is,  personified  abstractions)  in- 
herent in  all  beings,  and  capable  of  producing  all  phenomena. 
What  is  called  the  explanation  of  phenomena  is,  in  this  stage,  a 
mere  reference  of  each  to  its  proper  entity. 

In  the  final,  the  positive  state,  the  mind  has  given  over  the 
vain  search  after  Absolute  notions,  the  origin  and  destination 
of  the  universe,  and  the  causes  of  phenomena,  and  arjrjlies  itself 
toj:he  study  of  theirjaws,  —  that  is,  their  invariablereIa!Torrs 
of.  succession  jmd  resemblance.  Reasoning  ,and  observation, 
duly  combined,  are  the  means  of  this  knowledge.  What  is  now 
understood  when  we  speak  of  an  explanation  of  facts  is  simply 
the  establishment  of  a  connection  between  single  phenomena 
and  some  general  facts,  the  number  of  which  continually  dimin- 
ishes with  the  progress  of  science. 

The  Theological  system  arrived  at  the  highest  perfection  of 
which  it  is  capable  when  it  substituted  the  providential  action 
of  a  single  Being  for  the  varied  operations  of  the  numerous 
divinities  which  had  been  before  imagined.  In  the  same  way, 
in  the  last  stage  of  the  Metaphysical  system,  men  substitute  one 


674  AUGUSTE   COMTE 

great  entity  (Nature)  as  the  cause  of  all  phenomena,  instead  of 
the  multitude  of  entities  at  first  supposed.  In  the  same  way, 
again,  the  ultimate  perfection  of  the  Positive  system  would  be 
(if  such  perfection  could  be  hoped  for)  to  represent  all  phenomena 
as  particular  aspects  of  a  single  general  fact ;  —  such  as  Gravi- 
tation, for  instance. 

The  importance  of  the  working  of  this  general  law  will  be 
established  hereafter.  At  present,  it  must  suffice  to  point  out 
some  of  the  grounds  of  it. 

There  is  no  science  which,  having  attained  the  positive  stage, 
does  not  bear  marks  of  having  passed  through  the  others.  Some 
time  since  it  was  (whatever  it  might  be)  composed,  as  we  can 
now  perceive,  of  metaphysical  abstractions;  and,  further  back 
in  the  course  of  time,  it  took  its  form  from  theological  concep- 
tions. We  shall  have  only  too  much  occasion  to  see,  as  we  pro- 
ceed, that  our  most  advanced  sciences  still  bear  very  evident 
marks  of  the  two  earlier  periods  through  which  they  have  passed. 

The  progress  of  the  individual  mind  is  not  only  an  illustra- 
tion, but  an  indirect  evidence  of  that  of  the  general  mind.  The 
point  of  departure  of  the  individual  and  of  the  race  being  the 
same,  the  phases  of  the  mind  of  a  man  correspond  to  the  epochs 
of  the  mind  of  the  race.  Now,  each  of  us  is  aware,  if  he  looks 
back  upon  his  own  history,  that  he  was  a  theologian  in  his  child- 
hood, a  metaphysician  in  his  youth,  and  a  natural  philosopher 
in  his  manhood.  All  men  who  are  up  to  their  age  can  verify  this 
for  themselves. 

Besides  the  observation  of  facts,  we  have  theoretical  reasons 
in  support  of  this  law. 

The  most  important  of  these  reasons  arises  from  the  necessity 
that  always  exists  for  some  theory  to  which  to  refer  our  facts, 
combined  with  the  clear  impossibility  that,  at  the  outset  of 
human  knowledge,  men  could  have  formed  theories  out  of  the 
observation  of  facts.  All  good  intellects  have  repeated,  since 
Bacon's  time,  that  there  can  be  no  real  knowledge  but  that 
which  is  based  on  observed  facts.  This  is  incontestable,  in  our 
present  advanced  stage;  but,  if  we  look  back  to  the  primitive 
stage  of  human  knowledge,  we  shall  see  that  it  must  have  been 


THE    POSITIVE    PHILOSOPHY 

otherwise  then.  If  it  is  true  that  every  theory  must  I 
upon  observed  facts,  it  is  equally  true  that  facts  canno 
served  without  the  guidance  of  some  theory.  Withe 
guidance,  our  facts  would  be  desultory  and  fruitless ;  \ 
not  retain  them :  for  the  most  part  we  could  not  even 
them., 

Thus,  between  the  necessity  of  observing  facts  in 
form  a  theory,  and  having  a  theory  in  order  to  obser 
the  human  mind  would  have  been  entangled  in  a  vicioi 
but  for  the  natural  opening  afforded  by  Theological  con- 
This  is  the  fundamental  reason  for  the  theological  cha 
the  primitive  philosophy.    This  necessity  is  confirmee 
perfect  suitability  of  the  theological  philosophy  to  the 
researches  of  the  human  mind.   It  is  remarkable  that  t 
inaccessible  questions,  —  those  of  the  nature  of  beings, 
origin  and  purpose  of  phenomena,  —  should  be  the  first 
in  a  primitive  state,  while  those  which  are  really  wit 
reach  are  regarded  as  almost  unworthy  of  serious  stud 
reason  is  evident  enough :  —  that  experience  alone  can  t 
the  measure  of  our  powers;  and  if^men  had  not  begur 
exaggerated  estimate  of_what  they  can  olo,  they  woul< 
have  done  all  that  they  are  capablejqf.    Our  organizal 
quires  this.  At  such  a  period  there  could  have  been  no  re 
of  a  positive  philosophy,  whose  function  is  to  discover  t 
of  phenomena,  and  whose  leading  characteristic  it  is  to 
as  interdicted  to  human  reason  those  sublime  mysteries 
theology  explains,  even  to  their  minutest  details,  with  tl 
attractive  facility.    It  is  just  so  under  a  practical  view 
nature  of  the  researches  with  which  men  first  occupiec 
selves.   Such  inquiries  offered  the  powerful  charm  of  ur 
empire  over  the  external  world,  —  a  world  destined  wh 
our  use,  and  involved  in  every  way  with  our  existenc 
theological    philosophy,    presenting    this    view,    admi: 
exactly  the  stimulus  necessary  to  incite  the  human  min< 
irksome  labour  without  which  it  could  make  no  progn 
can  now  scarcely  conceive  of  such  a  state  of  things,  ou: 
having  become  sufficiently  mature  to  enter  upon  \'< 


AUGUSTE   COMTE 

^searches,  without  needing  any  such  stimulus  as 
pon  the  imaginations  of  astrologers  and  alchemists, 
active  enough  in  the  hope  of  discovering  the  laws  of 
i,  with  a  view  to  the  confirmation  or  rejection  of  a 
it  it  could  not  be  so  in  the  earliest  days ;  and  it  is  to 
•as  of  astrology  and  alchemy  that  we  owe  the  long 
bservations  and  experiments  on  which  our  positive 
:>ased.  Kepler  felt  this  on  behalf  of  astronomy,  and 
on  behalf  of  chemistry.  Thus  was  a  spontaneous 
,  the  theological,  the  only  possible  beginning,  method, 
ional  system,  out  of  which  the  Positive  philosophy 
.  It  is  easy,  after  this,  to  perceive  how  Metaphysical 
id  doctrines  must  have  afforded  the  means  of  transi- 
he  one  to  the  other. 

lan  understanding,  slow  in  its  advance,  could  not 
e  from  the  theological  into  the  positive  philosophy, 
•e  so  radically  opposed,  that  an  intermediate  system 
ons  has  been  necessary  to  render  the  transition  pos- 

only  in  doing  this,  that  Metaphysical  conceptions 
tility  whatever.  In  contemplating  phenomena,  men 
:or  supernatural  direction  a  corresponding  entity. 

may  have  been  supposed  to  be  derived  from  the 
tl  action :  but  it  is  more  easily  lost  sight  of,  leaving 
ee  for  the  facts  themselves,  till,  at  length,  metaphys- 
have  ceased  to  be  anything  more  than  the  abstract 
lenomena.  It  is  not  easy  to  say  by  what  other  pro- 
lis  our  minds  could  have  passed  from  supernatural 
>ns  to  natural;  from  the  theological  system  to  the 

of  human  development- being  thus  established,  let 
what  is  the  proper  nature  of  the  Positive  Philosophy. 
ve  seen,  the  first  characteristic  of  the  Positive  Philo- 
tMtj^gar^^aJl^^he^omaia  ajs  subjecteoMo  invari- 

Laws.  Our  business  is,  —  seeing  how  vain  is  any 
:o  what  are  called  Causes,  whether  first  or  final,  — 
a  accurate  discovery  of  these  Laws,  with  a  view  to 
sm  to  the  smallest  possible  number.  By  speculating 


THE   POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY  677 

upon  causes,  we  could  solve  no  difficulty  about  origin  and  pur- 
pose. Our  real  business  is  to  analyse  accurately  the  circum- 
stances of  phenomenay-and-^  eomreet-thefHr  by  the  natural  re- 
lationsjDf  succession  and  resemblance.  The  best  illustration  of 
this  is  in  the  case  of  .the  doctrine  of  Gravitation.  We  say  that 
the  general  phenomena  of  the  universe  are  explained  by  it,  be- 
cause it  connects  under  one  head  the  whole  immense  variety  of 
astronomical  facts;  exhibiting  the  constant  tendency  of  atoms 
towards  each  other  in  direct  proportion  to  their  masses,  and  in 
inverse  proportion  to  the  squares  of  their  distances ;  whilst  the 
general  fact  itself  is  a  mere  extension  of  one  which  is  perfectly 
familiar  to  us,  and  which  we  therefore  say  that  we  know ;  — 
the  weight  of  bodies  on  the  surface  of  the  earth.  As  to  what 
weight  and  attraction  are,  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  that,  for 
it  is  not  a  matter  of  knowledge  at  all.  Theologians  and  meta- 
physicians may  imagine  and  refine  about  such  questions;  but 
positive  philosophy  rejects  them.  When  any  attempt  has  been 
made  to  explain  them,  it  has  ended  only  hi  saying  that  attrac-  f 
tion  is  universal  weight,  and  that  weight  is  terrestrial  attraction :  ^ 
that  is,  that  the  two  orders  of  phenomena  are  identical;  which 
is  the  point  from  which  the  question  set  out.  Again,  M.  Fourier, 
in  his  fine  series  of  researches  on  Heat,  has  given  us  all  the  most 
important  and  precise  laws  of  the  phenomena  of  heat,  and  many 
large  and  new  truths,  without  once  inquiring  into  its  nature,  as 
his  predecessors  had  done  when  they  disputed  about  calorific 
matter  and  the  action  of  an  universal  ether.  In  treating  his  sub- 
ject in  the  Positive  method,  he  finds  inexhaustible  material  for 
all  his  activity  of  research,  without  betaking  himself  to  insoluble 
questions. 

Before  ascertaining  the  stage  which  the  Positive  Philosophy 
has  reached,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  different  kinds  of 
our  knowledge  have  passed  through  the  three  stages  of  progress 
at  different  rates,  and  have  not  therefore  arrived  at  the  same 
time.  The  rate  of  advance  depends  on  the  nature  of  the  know- 
ledge in  question,  so  distinctly  that,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter, 
this  consideration  constitutes  an  accessory  to  the  fundamental 
law  of  progress.  Any  kind  of  knowledge  reaches  the  positive 


678  AUGUSTE   COMTE 

stage  early  in  proportion  to  its  generality,  simplicity,  and  inde- 
pendence of  other  departments.  Astronomical  science,  which  is 
above  all  made  up  of  facts  that  are  general,  simple,  and  inde- 
pendent of  other  sciences,  arrived  first ;  then  terrestrial  Physics ; 
then  Chemistry;  and,  at  length,  Physiology. 

It  is  difficult  to  assign  any  precise  date  to  this  revolution  in 
science.  It  may  be  said,  like  everything  else,  to  have  been  al- 
ways going  on ;  and  especially  since  the  labours  of  Aristotle  and 
the  school  of  Alexandria;  and  then  from  the  introduction  of 
natural  science  into  the  West  of  Europe  by  the  Arabs.  But,  if 
we  must  fix  upon  some  marked  period,  to  serve  as  a  rallying 
point,  it  must  be  that,  —  about  two  centuries  ago,  —  when  the 
human  mind  was  astir  under  the  precepts  of  Bacon,  the  con- 
ceptions of  Descartes,  and  the  discoveries  of  Galileo.  Then  it 
was  that  the  spirit  of  the  Positive  philosophy  rose  up  in  opposi- 
tion to  that  of  the  superstitious  and  scholastic  systems  which 
had  hitherto  obscured  the  true  character  of  all  science.  Since 
that  date,  the  progress  of  the  Positive  philosophy,  and  the  de- 
cline of  the  other  two,  have  been  so  marked  that  no  rational 
mind  now  doubts  that  the  revolution  is  destined  to  go  on  to  its 
completion,  —  every  branch  of  knowledge  being,  sooner  or  later, 
brought  within  the  operation  of  Positive  philosophy.  This  is 
not  yet  the  case.  Some  are  still  lying  outside :  and  not  till  they 
are  brought  in  will  the  Positive  philosophy  possess  that  char- 
acter of  universality  which  is  necessary  to  its  definitive  consti- 
tution. 

In  mentioning  just  now  the  four  principal  categories  of 
phenomena,  —  astronomical,  physical,  chemical,  and  physio- 
logical, —  there  was  an  omission  which  will  have  been  noticed. 
Nothing,, was  said  of  Social  phenomena.  Though  involved  with 
the  physiological,  Social  phenomena  demand  a  distinct  classi- 
fication, both  on  account  of  their  importance  and  of  their  diffi- 
culty. They  are  the  most  individual,  the  most  complicated,  the 
most  dependent  on  all  others;  and  therefore  they  must  be  the 
latest,  —  even  if  they  had  no  special  obstacle  to  encounter.  This 
branch  of  science  has  not  hitherto  entered  into  the  domain  of 
Positive  philosophy.  Theological  and  metaphysical  methods, 


THE    POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY  679 

exploded  in  other  departments,  are  as  yet  exclusively  applied, 
both  in  the  way  of  inquiry  and  discussion,  in  all  treatment  of 
Social  subjects,  though  the  best  minds  are  heartily  weary  of 
eternal  disputes  about  divine  right  and  the  sovereignty  of  the 
people.  This  is  the  great,  while  it  is  evidently  the  only  gap  which 
has  to 'tie  filled,  to  constitute,  solid  and  entire,  the  Positive  Phi- 
losophy. Now  that  the  human  mind  has  grasped  celestial 
and  terrestrial  physics,  —  mechanical  and  chemical;  organic 
physics,  both  vegetable  and  animal,  —  there  remains  one  science, 
to  fill  up  the  series  of  sciences  of  observation,  —  Social  physics. 
This  is  what  men  have  now  most  need  of :  and  this  it  is  the  prin- 
cipal aim  of  the  present  work  to  establish. 

It  would  be  absurd  to  pretend  to  offer  this  new  science  at  once 
in  a  complete  state.  Others,  less  new,  are  in  very  unequal  con- 
ditions of  forwardness.  But  the  same  character  of  positivity 
which  is  impressed  on  all  the  others  will  be  shown  to  belong  to 
this.  This  once  done,  the  philosophical  system  of  the  moderns 
will  be  in  fact  complete,  as  there  will  then  be  no  phenomenon 
which  does  not  naturally  enter  into  some  one  of  the  five  great 
categories.  All  our  fundamental  conceptions  having  become 
homogeneous,  the  Positive  state  will  be  fully  established.  It 
can  never  again  change  its  character,  though  it  will  be  for  ever 
in  course  of  development  by  additions  of  new  knowledge^  Hav- 
ing acquired  the  character  of  universality  which  has  hitherto 
been  the  only  advantage  resting  with  the  two  preceding  systems, 
it  will  supersede  them  by  its  natural  superiority,  and  leave  to 
them  only  an  historical  existence. 

We  have  stated  the  special  aim  of  this  work.  Its  secondary 
and  general  aim  is  this:  —  to  review  what  has  been  effected  in 
the  Sciences,  in  order  to  show  that  they  are  not  radically  separate, 
but  all  branches  from  the  same  trunk.  If  we  had  confined  our- 
selves to  the  first  and  special  object  of  the  work,  we  should  have 
produced  merely  a  study  of  Social  physics:  whereas,  in  intro- 
ducing the  second  and  general  we  offer  a  study  of  Positive  phi- 
losophy, passing  in  review  all  the  positive  sciences  already 
formed. 

The  purpose  of  this  work  is  not  to  give  an  account  of  the 


680  AUGUSTE   COMTE 

Natural  Sciences.  Besides  that  it  would  be  endless,  and  that  it 
would  require  a  scientific  preparation  such  as  no  one  man  pos- 
sesses, it  would  be  apart  from  our  object,  which  is  to  go  through 
a  course  of  not  Positive  Science,  but  Positive  Philosophy.  We 
have  only  to  consider  each  fundamental  science  in  its  relation 
to  the  whole  positive  system,  and  to  the  spirit  which  characterizes 
it ;  that  is,  with  regard  to  its  methods  and  its  chief  results. 
\  The  two  aims,  though  distinct,  are  inseparable;  for,  on  the 
one  hand,  there  can  be  no  positive  philosophy  without  a  basis 
of  social  science,  without  which  it  could  not  be  all-comprehen- 
sive ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  we  could  not  pursue  Social  science 
without  having  been  prepared  by  the  study  of  phenomena  less 
complicated  than  those  of  society,  and  furnished  with  a  know- 
ledge of  laws  and  anterior  facts  which  have  a  bearing  upon  social 
science.  Though  the  fundamental  sciences  are  not  all  equally 
interesting  to  ordinary  minds,  there  is  no  one  of  them  that  can 
be  neglected  in  an  inquiry  like  the  present;  and,  in  the  eye  of 
philosophy,  all  are  of  equal  value  to  human  welfare.  Even  those 
which  appear  the  least  interesting  have  their  own  value,  either 
on  account  of  the  perfection  of  their  methods,  or  as  being  the 
necessary  basis  of  all  the  others. 

Lest  it  should  be  supposed  that  our  course  will  lead  us  into  a 
wilderness  of  such  special  studies  as  are  at  present  the  bane  of  a 
true  positive  philosophy,  we  will  briefly  advert  to  the  existing 
prevalence  of  such  special  pursuit.  In  the  primitive  state  of 
human  knowledge  there  is  no  regular  division  of  intellectual 
labour.  Every  student  cultivates  all  the  sciences.  As  knowledge 
accrues,  the  sciences  part  off;  and  students  devote  themselves 
each  to  some  one  branch.  It  is  owing  to  this  division  of  employ- 
ment, and  concentration  of  whole  minds  upon  a  single  depart- 
ment, that  science  has  made  so  prodigious  an  advance  in  modern 
times ;  and  the  perfection  of  this  division  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant characteristics  of  the  Positive  philosophy.  But,  while 
admitting  all  the  merits  of  this  change,  we  cannot  be  blind  to 
the  eminent  disadvantages  which  arise  from  the  limitation  of 
minds  to  a  particular  study.  It  is  inevitable  that  each  should  be 
possessed  with  exclusive  notions,  and  be  therefore  incapable  of 


THE   POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY  68 1 

the  general  superiority  of  ancient  students,  who  actually  owed 
that  general  superiority  to  the  inferiority  of  their  knowledge. 
We  must  consider  whether  the  evil  can  be  avoided  without  losing 
the  good  of  the  modern  arrangement;  for  the  evil  is  becoming 
urgent.  We  all  acknowledge  that  the  divisions  established  for  the 
convenience  of  scientific  pursuit  are  radically  artificial ;  and  yet 
there  are  very  few  who  can  embrace  hi  idea  the  whole  of  any 
one  science :  each  science  moreover  being  itself  only  a  part  of  a 
great  whole.  Almost  every  one  is  busy  about  his  own  particular 
section,  without  much  thought  about  its  relation  to  the  general 
system  of  positive  knowledge.  We  must  not  be  blind  to  the  evil, 
nor  slow  in  seeking  a  remedy.  We  must  not  forget  that  this  is 
the  weak  side  of  the  positive  philosophy,  by  which  it  may  yet  be 
attacked,  with  some  hope  of  success,  by  the  adherents  of  the 
theological  and  metaphysical  systems.  As  to  the  remedy,  it  cer- 
tainly does  not  lie  in  a  return  to  the  ancient  confusion  of  pur- 
suits, which  would  be  mere  retrogression,  if  it  were  possible,  which 
it  is  not.  It  lies  in  perfecting  the  division  of  employments  itself, 
— in  carrying  it  one  degree  higher, — in  constituting  one  more 
speciality  from  the  study  of  scientific  generalities.  Let  us  have  a 
new  class  of  students,  suitably  prepared,  whose  business  it  shall 
be  to  take  the  respective  sciences  as  they  are,  determine  the 
spirit  of  each,  ascertain  their  relations  and  mutual  connection, 
and  reduce  their  respective  principles  to  the  smallest  number 
of  general  principles,  in  conformity  with  the  fundamental  rules 
of  the  Positive  Method.  At  the  same  time,  let  other  students 
be  prepared  for  their  special  pursuit  by  an  education  which  re- 
cognizes the  whole  scope  of  positive  science,  so  as  to  profit  by 
the  labours  of  the  students  of  generalities,  and  so  as  to  correct 
reciprocally,  under  that  guidance,  the  results  obtained  by  each. 
We  see  some  approach  already  to  this  arrangement.  Once  estab- 
lished, there  would  be  nothing  to  apprehend  from  any  extent 
of  division  of  employments.  When  we  once  have  a  class  of 
learned  men,  at  the  disposal  of  all  others,  whose  business  it  shall 
be  to  connect  each  new  discovery  with  the  general  system,  we 
jnay  dismiss  all  fear  of  the  great  whole  being  lost  sight  of  in  the 
pursuit  of  the  detailsof  knowledge.  The  organization  of  scien- 


682  AUGUSTE   COMTE 

tific  research  will  then  be  complete ;  and  it  will  henceforth  have 
occasion  only  to  extend  its  development,  and  not  to  change  its 
character.  After  all,  the  formation  of  such  a  new  class  as  is  pro- 
posed would  be  merely  an  extension  of  the  principle  which  has 
created  all  the  classes  we  have.  While  science  was  narrow,  there 
was  only  one  class :  as  it  expanded,  more  were  instituted.  With 
a  further  advance  a  fresh  need  arises,  and  this  new  class  will  be 
the  result. 

The  general  spirit  of  a  course  of  Positive  Philosophy  having 
been  thus  set  forth,  we  must  now  glance  at  the  chief  advantages 
which  may  be  derived,  on  behalf  of  human  progression,  from 
the  study  of  it.  Of  these  advantages,  four  may  be  especially 
pointed  out. 

I.  The  study  of  the  Positive  Philosophy  affords  the  only 
rational  means  of  exhibiting  the  logical  laws  of  the  human  mind, 
which  have  hitherto  been  sought  by  unfit  methods.  To  explain 
what  is  meant  by  this,  we  may  refer  to  a  saying  of  M.  de  Blain- 
ville,  in  his  work  on  Comparative  Anatomy,  that  every  active, 
and  especially  every  living  being,  may  be  regarded  under  two 
relations  —  thejjtatical  and  the  DynamicajjjthaHs,  under  con- 
ditions or  in  action.  It  is  clear  that  all  considerations  range 
themselves  under  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  heads.  Let  us 
apply  this  classification  to  the  intellectual  functions. 

If  we  regard  these  functions  under  their  Statical  aspect  — 
that  is,  if  we  consider  the  conditions  under  which  they  exist  — 
we  must  determine  the  organic  circumstances  of  the  case,  which 
inquiry  involves  it  with  anatomy  and  physiology.  If  we  look  at 
the  Dynamic  aspect,  we  have  to  study  simply  the  exercise  and 
results  of  the  intellectual  powers  of  the  human  race,  which  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  the  general  object  of  the  Positive 
Philosophy.  In  short,  looking  at  all  scientific  theories  as  so  many 
great  logical  facts,  it  is  only  by  the  thorough  observation  of  these 
facts  that  we  can  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  logical  laws.  These 
being  the  only  means  of  knowledge  of  intellectual  phenomena, 
the  illusory  psychology,  which  is  the  last  phase  of  theology,  is 
excluded.  It  pretends  to  accomplish  the  discovery  of  the  laws 
of  the  human  mind  by  contemplating  it  in  itself;  that  is,  by 


THE    POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY  683 

separating  it*  from  causes  and  effects.  Such  an  attempt,  made 
in  defiance  of  the  physiological  study  of  our  intellectual  organs, 
and  of  the  observation  of  rational  methods  of  procedure,  cannot 
succeed  at  this  time  of  day. 

The  Positive  Philosophy,  which  has  been  rising  since  the 
time  of  Bacon,  has  now  secured  such  a  preponderance,  that 
the  metaphysicians  themselves  profess  to  ground  their  pretended 
science  on  an  observation  of  facts.  They  talk  of  external  and  in- 
ternal facts,  and  say  that  their  business  is  with  the  latter.  This 
is  much  like  saying  that  vision  is  explained  by  luminous  objects 
painting  their  images  upon  the  retina.  To  this  the  physiolo- 
gists reply  that  another  eye  would  be  needed  to  see  the  image. 
In  the  same  manner,  the  mind  may  observe  all  phenomena  but 
itsjpwn.  It  may  be  said  that  a  man's  intellect  may  ob'serve  his 
passions,  the  seat  of  the  reason  being  somewhat  apart  from  that 
of  the  emotions  in  the  brain ;  but  there  can  be  notHing  like  scien- 
tific observation  of  the  passions,  except  from  without,  as  the  stir 
of  the  emotions  disturbs  the  observing  faculties  more  or  less. 
It  is  yet  more  out  of  Hr*  gnpsHnn  |p  make  an  intellectual  obser- 
vation of  intellectual  processes.  The  observing  and  observed 
organs  are  here  the  same,  and  its  action  cannot  be  pure  and  natu- 
ral. In  order  to  observe,  your  intellect  must  pause  from  activity ; 
yet  it  is  this  very  activity  that  you  want  to  observe.  If  you  can- 
not effect  the  pause,  you  cannot  observe :  if  you  do  effect  it,  there 
is  nothing  to  observe.  The  results  of  such  a  method  are  in  pro- 
portion to  its  absurdity.  After  two  thousand  years  of  psycholo- 
gical pursuit,  no  one  proposition  is  established  to  the  satisfaction 
of  its  followers.  They  are  divided,  to  this  day,  into  a  multi- 
tude of  schools,  still  disputing  about  the  very  elements  of  their 
doctrine.  This  interior  observation  gives  birth  to  almost  as  many 
theories  as  there  are  observers.  We  ask  in  vain  for  any  one  dis- 
covery, great  or  small,  which  has  been  made  under  this  method. 
The  psychologists  have  done  some  good  in  keeping  up  the  ac- 
tivity of  our  understandings,  when  there  was  no  better  work  for 
our  faculties  to  do ;  and  they  may  have  added  something  to  our 
stock  of  knowledge.  If  they  have  done  so,  it  is  by  practising  Ihf 
Positive  method  —  by  observing  the  progress  of  tlfcp  hun 


684  AUGUSTE   COMTE 

mind  in  the  light  of  science ;  that  is,  by  ceasing,  for  the  moment, 
to  be  psychologists. 

The  view  just  given  in  relation  to  logical  Science  becomes  yet 
more  striking  when  we  consider  the  logical  Art. 

The  Positive  Method  can  be  judged  of  only  in  action.  It  can- 
not be  looked  at  by  itself,  apart  from  the  work  on  which  it  is 
employed.  At  all  events,  such  a  contemplation  would  be  only  a 
dead  study,  which  could  produce  nothing  in  the  mind  which 
loses  time  upon  it.  We  may  talk  for  ever  about  the  method,  and 
state  it  in  terms  very  wisely,  without  knowing  half  so  much  about 
it  as  the  man  who  has  once  put  it  hi  practice  upon  a  single  par- 
ticular of  actual  research,  even  without  any  philosophical  inten- 
tion. Thus  it  is  that  psychologists,  by  dint  of  reading  the  pre- 
cepts of  "Bacon  and  the  discourses  of  Descartes,  have  mistaken 
their  own  dreams  for  science. 

Without  saying  whether  it  will  ever  be  possible  to  establish 
&  priori  a  true  method  of  investigation,  independent  of  a  phi- 
losophical study  of  the  sciences,  it  is  clear  that  the  thing  has 
never  been  done  yet,  and  that  we  are  not  capable  of  doing  it 
now.  We  cannot  as  yet  explain  the  great  logical  procedures, 
^apart  frnnxJLheir^a^rjplications.  If  we  ever  do,  it  will  remain  as 
necessary  then  as  now  to  form  good  intellectual  habits  by  study- 
ing the  regular  application  of  the  scientific  methods  which  we 
shall  have  attained. 

This,  then,  is  the  first  great  result  of  the  Positive  Philosophy 
—  the  manifestation  by  experiment  of  the  laws  which  rule  the 
Intellect  in  the  investigation  of  truth ;  and,  as  a  consequence  the 
knowledge  of  the  general  rules  suitable  for  that  object. 

II.  The  second  effect  of  the  Positive  Philosophy,  an  effect 
not  less  important  and  far  more  urgently  wanted,  will  be  to  re- 
generate Education.  The  best  minds  are  agreed  that  our  Euro- 
pean education,  still  essentially  theological,  metaphysical,  and 
literary,  must  be  superseded  by  a  Positive  training,  conformable 
to  our  time  and  needs.  Even  the  governments  of  our  day  have 
shared,  where  they  have  not  originated,  the  attempts  to  estab- 
lish positive  instruction ;  and  this  is  a  striking  indication  of  the 
prevalent  sense  of  what  is  wanted.  While  encouraging  such 


THE    POSITIVE    PHILOSOPHY  685 

endeavours  to  the  utmost,  we  must  not  however  conceal  from  our- 
selves that  everything  yet  done  is  inadequate  to  the  object.  /The 
present  exclusive  speciality  of  our  pursuits,  and  the  consequent 
isolation  of  the  sciences,  spoil  our  teaching^  If  any  student  de- 
sires to  form  an  idea  of  natural  philosophy  as  a  whole,  he  is  com- 
pelled to  go  through  each  department  as  it  is  now  taught,  as  if 
he  were  to  be  only  an  astronomer,  or  only  a  chemist ;  so  that,  be 
his  intellect  what  it  may,  his  training  must  remain  very  imperfect. 
And  yet  his  object  requires  that  he  should  obtain  general  posi- 
tive conceptions  of  all  the  classes  of  natural  phenomena.  It  is 
such  an  aggregate  of  conceptions,  whether  on  a  great  or  on  a 
small  scale,  which  must  henceforth  be  the  permanent  basis  of 
all  human  combinations.  It  will  constitute  the  mind  of  future 
generations.  In  order  to  this  regeneration  of  our  intellectual 
system,  it  is  necessary  that  the  sciences,  considered  as  branches 
from  one  trunk,  should  yield  us,  as  a  whole,  their  chief  methods 
and  their  most  important  results.  The  specialities  of  science 
can  be  pursued  by  those  whose  vocation  lies  in  that  direction. 
They  are  indispensable ;  and  they  are  not  likely  to  be  neglected ; 
but  they  can  never  of  themselves  renovate  our  system  of  Educa- 
tion ;  and,  to  be  of  their  full  use,  they  must  rest  upon  the  basis  of 
that  general  instruction  which  is  a  direct  result  of  the  Positive 
Philosophy. 

III.  The  same  special  study  of  scientific  generalities  must 
also  aid  the  progress  of  the  respective  positive  sciences :  and  this 
constitutes  our  third  head  of  advantages. 

The  divisions  which  we  establish  between  the  sciences  are, 
though  not  arbitrary,  essentially  artificial.  The  subject  of  our 
researches  is  one :  we  divide  it  for  our  convenience,  in  order  to 
deal  the  more  easily  with  its  difficulties.  But  it  sometimes  hap- 
pens—  and  especially  with  the  most  important  doctrines  of 
each  science  —  that  we  need  what  we  cannot  obtain  under  the 
present  isolation  of  the  sciences,  —  a  combination  of  several 
special  points  of  view ;  and  for  want  of  this,  very  important  prob- 
lems wait  for  their  solution  much  longer  than  they  otherwise 
need  do.  To  go  back  into  the  past  for  an  example :  Descartes' 
grand  conception  with  regard  to  analytical  geometry  is  a  dis- 


686  AUGUSTE   COMTE 

co very  which  has  changed  the  whole  aspect  of  mathematical 
science,  and  yielded  the  germ  of  all  future  progress ;  and  it  issued 
froirTtlie  union  of  two  sciences  which  had  always  before  been 
separately  regarded  and  pursued.  The  case  of  pending  ques- 
tions is  yet  more  impressive ;  as,  for  instance,  in  Chemistry,  the 
doctrine  of  Definite  Proportions.  Without .  entering  upon  the 
discussion  of  the  fundamental  principle  of  this  theory,  we  may 
say  with  assurance  that,  in  order  to  determine  it  —  in  order  to 
determine  whether  it  is  a  law  of  nature  that  atoms  should  neces- 
sarily combine  in  fixed  numbers,  —  it  will  be  indispensable  that 
the  chemical  point  of  view  should  be  united  with  the  physio- 
logical. The  failure  of  the  theory  with  regard  to  organic  bodies 
indicates  that  the  cause  of  this  immense  exception  must  be  in- 
vestigated ;  and  such  an  inquiry  belongs  as  much  to  physiology 
as  to  chemistry.  Again,  it  is  as  yet  undecided  whether  azote  r  ^ 
simple  or  a  compound  body.  It  was  concluded  by  almost  c 
chemists  that  azote  is  a  simple  body;  the  illustrious  Berzelius 
hesitated,  on  purely  chemical  considerations;  but  he  was  also 
influenced  by  the  physiological  observation  that  animals  which 
receive  no  azote  in  their  food  have  as  much  of  it  in  their  tissues 
as  carnivorous  animals.  From  this  we  see  how  physiology  must 
unite  with  chemistry  to  inform  us  whether  azote  is  simple  or 
compound,  and  to  institute  a  new  series  of  researches  upon  the 
relation  between  the  composition  of  living  bodies  and  their  mode 
of  alimentation. 

Such  is  the  advantage  which,  in  the  third  place,  we  shall  owe 
to  Positive  philosophy  —  the  elucidation  of  the  respective  sci- 
ences by  their  combination.  In  the  fourth  place 

IV.  The  Positive  Philosophy  offers  the  only  solid  basis  for 
that  Social  Reorganization  which  must  succeed  the  critical  con- 
dition in  which  the  most  civilized  nations  are  now  living. 

It  cannot  be  necessary  to  prove  to  anybody  who  reads  this 
work  that  Ideas  govern  the  world,  or  throw  it  into  chaos;  in 
other  words,  that  all  social  mechanism  rests  upon  Opinions. 
(  The  great  political  and  moral  crisis  that  societies  are  now  under- 
going is  shown  by  a  rigid  analysis  tc^arise  outt  of  jntellectual 
anarchy }  While  stability  in  fundamental  maxims  is  the  first 


THE   POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY  687 

condition  of  genuine  social  order,  we  are  suffering  under  an  utter 
disagreement  which  may  be  called  universal.  (Till  a  certain 
number  of  general  ideas  can  be  acknowledged  as  a  rallying- 
point  of  social  doctrine,  the  nations  will  remain  in  a  revolutionary 
state,  whatever  palliatives  may  be  devised ;  and  their  institutions 
can  be  only  provisional.^  But  whenever  the  necessary  agreement 
on  first  principles  can  be  obtained,  appropriate  institutions  will 
issue  from  them,  without  shock  or  resistance ;  for  the  causes  of 
disorder  will  have  been  arrested  by  the  mere  fact  of  the  agree- 
ment. It  is  in  this  direction  that  those  must  look  who  desire  a 
natural  and  regular,  a  normal  state  of  society. 
\  Now,  the  existing  disorder  is  abundantly  accounted  for  by 
the  existence,  all  at  once,  of  three  incompatible  philosophies,  - 
the  theological,  the  metaphysical,  and  the  positive.  /Any  one  of 
these  might  alone  secure  some  sort  of  social  order ;  but  while  the 
three  co-exist,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  understand  one  another 
upon  any  essential  point  whatever.  If  this  is  true,  we  have  only 
to  ascertain  which  of  the  philosophies  must,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  prevail ;  and,  this  ascertained,  every  man,  whatever  may 
have  been  his  former  views,  cannot  but  concur  in  its  triumph. 
The  problem  once  recognized  cannot  remain  long  unsolved; 
for  all  considerations  whatever  point  to  the  Positive  Philosophy 
as  the  one  destined  to  prevail.  It  alone  has  been  advancing  dur- 
ing a  course  of  centuries,  throughout  which  the  others  have  been 
declining.  The  fact  is  incontestable.  Some  may  deplore  it,  but 
none  can  destroy  it,  nor  therefore  neglect  it  but  under  penalty  of 
being  betrayed  by  illusory  speculations.  This  general  revolu- 
tion of  the  human  mind  is  nearly  accomplished.  We  have  only 
to  complete  the  Positive  Philosophy  by  bringing  Social  phe- 
nomena within  its  comprehension,  and  afterwards  consolidating 
the  whole  into  one  body  of  homogeneous  doctrine.  The  marked 
preference  which  almost  all  minds,  from  the  highest  to  the  com- 
monest, accord  to  positive  knowledge  over  vague  and  mystical 
conceptions,  is  a  pledge  of  what  the  reception  of  this  philosophy 
will  be  when  it  has  acquired  the  only  quality  that  it  now  wants  — 
a  character  of  due  generality.  When  it  has  become  complete, 
its  supremacy  will  take  place  spontaneously,  and  will  re-estab- 


688  AUGUSTE    COMTE 

lish  order  throughout  society.  There  is,  at  present,  no  conflict 
but  between  the  theological  and  the  metaphysical  philosophies. 
They  are  contending  for  the  task  of  reorganizing  society ;  but  it 
is  a  work  too  mighty  for  either  of  them.  The  positive  philosophy 
has  hitherto  intervened  only  to  examine  both,  and  both  are  abun- 
dantly discredited  by  the  process.  It  is  tune  now  to  be  doing 
something  more  effective,  without  wasting  our  forces  in  needless 
controversy.  It  is  time  to  complete  the  vast  intellectual  opera- 
tion begun  by  Bacon,  Descartes,  and  Galileo,  by  constructing 
the  system  of  general  ideas  which  must  henceforth  prevail 
among  the  human  race.  This  is  the  way  to  put  an  end  to  the 
revolutionary  crisis  which  is  tormenting  the  civilized  nations  ct 
the  world. 

Leaving  these  four  points  of  advantage,  we  must  attend  k 
one  precautionary  reflection. 

?vBecause  it  is  proposed  to  consolidate  the  whole  of  our  acquired 
knowledge  into  one  body  of  homogeneous  doctrine,  it  must  not 
be  supposed  that  we  are  going  to  study  this  vast  variety  as  pro- 
ceeding from  a  single  principle,  and  as  subjected  to  a  single  law.  L 
There  is  something  so  chimerical  in  attempts  at  universal  ex- 
planation by  a  single  law,  that  it  may  be  as  well  to  secure  this 
Work  at  once  from  any  imputation  of  the  kind,  though  its  de- 
velopment will  show  how  undeserved  such  an  imputation  would 
be.  Our  intellectual  resources  are  too  narrow,  and  the  universe 
is  too  complex,  to  leave  any  hope  that  it  will  ever  be  within  our 
power  to  carry  scientific  perfection  to  its  last  degree  of  simplicity. 
Moreover,  it  appears  as  if  the  value  of  such  an  attainment,  sup- 
posing it  possible,  were  greatly  overrated.  The  only  way,  for 
instance,  in  which  we  could  achieve  the  business,  would  be  by 
connecting  all  natural  phenomena  with  the  most  general  law 
we  know,  —  which  is  that  of  Gravitation,  by  which  astronomical 
phenomena  are  already  connected  with  a  portion  of  terrestrial 
physics.  Laplace  has  indicated  that  chemical  phenomena  may 
be  regarded  as  simple  atomic  effects  of  the  Newtonian  attraction, 
modified  by  the  form  and  mutual  position  of  the  atoms.  But 
supposing  this  view  proveable  (which  it  cannot  be  while  we  are 
without  data  about  the  constitution  of  bodies),  the  difficulty  of 


THE   POSITIVE   PHILOSOPHY  689 

its  application  would  doubtless  be  found  so  great  that  we  must 
still  maintain  the  existing  division  between  astronomy  and  chem- 
istry, with  the  difference  that  we  now  regard  as  natural  that 
division  which  we  should  then  call  artificial.  Laplace  himself 
presented  his  idea  only  as  a  philosophic  device,  incapable  of 
exercising  any  useful  influence  over  the  progress  of  chemical 
science.  Moreover,  supposing  this  insuperable  difficulty  over- 
come, we  should  be  no  nearer  to  scientific  unity,  since  we  then 
should  still  have  to  connect  the  whole  of  physiological  phe- 
nomena with  the  same  law,  which  certainly  would  not  be  the 
least  difficult  part  of  the  enterprise.  Yet,  all  things  considered, 
the  hypothesis  we  have  glanced  at  would  be  the  most  favourable 
to  the  desired  unity. 

The  consideration  of  all  phenomena  as  referable  to  a  single 
origin  is  by  no  means  necessary  to  the  systematic  formation  of 
science,  any  more  than  to  the  realization  of  the  great  and  happy 
consequences  that  we  anticipate  from  the  positive  philosophy. 
The  only  necessary  unity  is  that  of  Method,  which  is  already  in 
great  part  established.  As  forjhe  dogtrJne,  it  need  not  be-0ne; 
it  is  enough  that  it.  should  he  homogeneous.  It  is,  then,  under  the 
double  aspect  of  unity  of  method  and  homogeneousnessof  doc- 
trine  that  we  shall  consider  the  different  classes  of  positive 
theories  in  this  work.  While  pursuing  the  philosophical  aim  of 
all  science,  the  lessening  of  the  number  of  general  laws  requisite 
for  the  explanation  of  natural  phenomena,  we  shall  regard  as 
presumptuous  every  attempt,  in  all  future  time,  to  reduce  them 
rigorously  to  one. 

Having  thus  endeavoured  to  determine  the  spirit  and  influence 
of  the  Positive  Philosophy,  and  to  mark  the  goal  of  our  labours, 
we  have  now  to  proceed  to  the  exposition  of  the  system ;  that  is, 
to  the  determination  of  the  universal,  or  encyclopaedic  order, 
which  must  regulate  the  different  classes  of  natural  phenomena, 
and  consequently  the  corresponding  positive  sciences. 


JOHN  STUART  MILL 

(1806-1873) 

AN  EXAMINATION  OF  SIR  WILLIAM  HAMIL- 
TON'S PHILOSOPHY 

CHAPTER    XL     THE    PSYCHOLOGICAL    THEORY 
OF  THE  BELIEF  IN  AN  EXTERNAL  WORLD* 

WE  have  seen  Sir  W.  Hamilton  at  work  on  the  question  of  the 
reality  of  Matter,  by  the  introspective  method,  and,  as  it  seems, 
with  little  result.  Let  us  now  approach  the  same  subject  by  the 
psychological.  I  proceed,  therefore,  to  state  the  case  of  those 
who  hold  that  the  belief  in  an  external  world  is  not  an  intuitive, 
but  an  acquired  product. 

This  theory  postulates  the  following  psychological  truths,  all 
of  which  are  proved  by  experience,  and  are  not  contested,  though 
their  force  is  seldom  adequately  felt,  by  Sir  W.  Hamilton  and 
the  other  thinkers  of  the  introspective  school. 

It  postulates,  first,  that  the  human  mind  is  capable  of  Expec- 
tation. In  other  words,  that  after  having  had  actual  sensations, 
we  are  capable  of  forming  the  conception  of  Possible  sensa- 
tions; sensations  which  we  are  not  feeling  at  the  present  mo- 
ment, but  which  we  might  feel,  and  should  feel  if  certain 
conditions  were  present,  the  nature  of  which  conditions  we 
have,  in  many  cases,  learned  by  experience. 

It  postulates,  secondly,  the  laws  of  the  Association  of  Ideas. 
So  far  as  we  are  here  concerned,  these  laws  are  the  follow- 
ing: ist.  Similar  phaenomena  tend  to  be  thought  of  together. 
2d.  Phaenomena  which  have  either  been  experienced  or  con- 
ceived in  close  contiguity  to  one  another,  tend  to  be  thought  of 
together.  The  contiguity  is  of  two  kinds ;  simultaneity  and  imme- 
diate succession.  Facts  which  have  been  experienced  or  thought 
of  simultaneously,  recall  the  thought  of  one  another.  Of  facts 

*  Reprinted  from  J.  S.  Mill's  An  Examination  oj  Sir  William  Hamilton's 
Philosophy,  London,  Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  1865. 


SIR  WILLIAM  HAMILTON'S   PHILOSOPHY    691 

which  have  been  experienced  or  thought  of  in  immediate  suc- 
cession, the  antecedent,  or  the  thought  of  it,  recalls  the  thought 
of  the  consequent,  but  not  conversely.  3d.  Associations  pro- 
duced by  contiguity  become  more  certain  and  rapid  by  repeti- 
tion. When  two  phenomena  have  been  very  often  experienced 
in  conjunction,  and  have  not,  in  any  single  instance,  occurred 
separately  either  in  experience  or  in  thought,  there  is  produced 
between  them  what  has  been  called  Inseparable,  or  less  correctly, 
Indissoluble  Association :  by  which  is  not  meant  that  the  asso- 
ciation must  inevitably  last  to  the  end  of  life  —  that  no  subse- 
quent experience  or  process  of  thought  can  possibly  avail  to 
dissolve  it ;  but  only  that  as  long  as  no  such  experience  or  pro- 
cess of  thought  has  taken  place,  the  association  is  irresistible; 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  think  the  one  thing  disjoined  from  the 
other.  4th.  When  an  association  has  acquired  this  character  of 
inseparability — when  the  bond  between  the  two  ideas  has  been 
thus  firmly  riveted,  not  only  does  the  idea  called  up  by  asso- 
ciation become,  in  our  consciousness,  inseparable  from  the  idea 
which  suggested  it,  but  the  facts  or  phenomena  answering  to 
those  ideas,  come  at  last  to  seem  inseparable  in  existence :  things 
which  we  are  unable  to  conceive  apart,  appear  incapable  of 
existing  apart;  and  the  belief  we  have  in  their  coexistence, 
though  really  a  product  of  experience,  seems  intuitive.  Innu- 
merable examples  might  be  given  of  this  law.  One  of  the  most 
familiar,  as  well  as  the  most  striking,  is  that  of  our  acquired 
perceptions  of  sight.  Even  those  who,  with  Mr.  Bailey,  con- 
sider the  perception  of  distance  by  the  eye  as  not  acquired,  but 
intuitive,  admit  that  there  are  many  perceptions  of  sight  which, 
though  instantaneous  and  unhesitating,  are  not  intuitive.  What 
we  see  is  a  very  minute  fragment  of  what  we  think  we  see. 
We  see  artificially  that  one  thing  is  hard,  another  soft.  We  see 
artificially  that  one  thing  is  hot,  another  cold.  We  see  artifi- 
cially that  what  we  see  is  a  book,  or  a  stone,  each  of  these  being 
not  merely  an  inference,  but  a  heap  of  inferences,  from  the  signs 
which  we  see,  to  things  not  visible. 

Setting  out  from  these  premises,  the  Psychological  Theory 
maintains,  that  there  are  associations  naturally  and  even  neces- 


692  MILL 

sarily  generated  by  the /order  of  oui  sensations  and  of  our  re- 
miniscences of  sensation,  which,  supposing  no  intuition  of  an 
external  world  to  have  existed  in  consciousness,  would  inevit- 
ably generate  the  belief,  and  would  cause  it  to  be  regarded  as 
an  intuition. 

What  is  it  we  mean  when  we  say  that  the  object  we  perceive 
is  external  to  us,  and  not  a  part  of  our  own  thoughts  ?  We  mean, 
that  there  is  in  our  perceptions  something  which  exists  when 
we  are  not  thinking  of  it;  which  existed  before  we  had  ever 
thought  of  it,  and  would  exist  if  we  were  annihilated ;  and  fur- 
ther, that  there  exist  things  which  we  never  saw,  touched,  or 
otherwise  perceived,  and  things  which  never  have  been  per- 
ceived by  man.  This  idea  of  something  which  is  distinguished 
from  our  fleeting  impressions  by  what,  in  Kantian  language,  is 
called  Perdurability ;  something  which  is  fixed  and  the  same, 
while  our  impressions  vary ;  something  which  exists  whether  we 
are  aware  of  it  or  not,  and  which  is  always  square  (or  of  some 
other  given  figure)  whether  it  appears  to  us  square  or  round  — 
constitutes  altogether  our  idea  of  external  substance.  Whoever 
can  assign  an  origin  to  this  complex  conception,  has  accounted 
for  what  we  mean  by  the  belief  in  matter.  Now,  all  this,  accord- 
ing to  the  Psychological  Theory,  is  but  the  form  impressed  by 
the  known  laws  of  association,  upon  the  conception  or  notion, 
obtained  by  experience,  of  Contingent  Sensations;  by  which 
are  meant,  sensations  that  are  not  in  our  present  consciousness, 
and  perhaps  never  were  in  our  consciousness  at  all,  but  which, 
in  virtue  of  the  laws  to  which  we  have  learned  by  experience 
that  our  sensations  are  subject,  we  know  that  we  should  have 
felt  under  given  supposable  circumstances,  and  under  these 
same  circumstances,  might  still  feel. 

I  see  a  piece  of  white  paper  on  a  table.  I  go  into  another  room, 
and  though  I  have  ceased  to  see  it,  I  am  persuaded  that  the 
paper  is  still  there.  I  no  longer  have  the  sensations  which  it  gave 
me ;  but  I  believe  that  when  I  again  place  myself  in  the  circum- 
stances in  which  I  had  those  sensations,  that  is,  when  I  go  again 
into  the  room,  I  shall  again  have  them;  and  further,  that  there 
has  been  no  intervening  moment  at  which  this  would  not  have 


SIR  WILLIAM  HAMILTON'S   PHILOSOPHY    693 

been  the  case.  Owing  to  this  property  of  my  mind,  my  conception 
of  the  world  at  any  given  instant  consists,  in  only  a  small  pro- 
portion, of  present  sensations.  Of  these  I  may  at  the  time  have 
none  at  all,  and  they  are  in  any  case  a  most  insignificant  portion 
of  the  whole  which  I  apprehend.  The  conception  I  form  of  the 
world  existing  at  any  moment,  comprises,  along  with  the  sen- 
sations I  am  feeling,  a  countless  variety  of  possibilities  of  sen- 
sations :  namely,  the  whole  of  those  which  past  observation  tells 
me  that  I  could,  under  any  supposable  circumstances,  experi- 
ence- at  this  moment,  together  with  an  indefinite  and  illimitable 
multitude  of  others  which  though  I  do  not  know  that  I  could, 
yet  it  is  possible  that  I  might,  experience  in  circumstances  not 
known  to  me.  These  various  possibilkies  are  the  important 
thing  to  me  in  the  world.  My  present  sensations  are  generally 
of  little  importance,  and  are  moreover  fugitive :  the  possibilities, 
on  the  contrary,  are  permanent,  which  is  the  character  that 
mainly  distinguishes  our  idea  of  Substance  or  Matter  from  our 
notion  of  sensation.  These  possibilities,  which  are  conditional 
certainties,  need  a  special  name  to  distinguish  them  from  mere 
vague  possibilities,  which  experience  gives  no  warrant  for  reck- 
oning upon.  Now,  as  soon  as  a  distinguishing  name  is  given, 
though  it  be  only  to  the  same  thing  regarded  in  a  different  aspect, 
one  of  the  most  familiar  experiences  of  our  mental  nature  teaches 
us,  that  the  different  name  comes  to  be  considered  as  the  name 
of  a  different  thing. 

There  is  another  important  peculiarity  of  these  certified  or 
guaranteed  possibilities  of  sensation;  namely,  that  they  have 
reference,  not  to  single  sensations,  but  to  sensations  joined  to- 
gether in  groups.  When  we  think  of  anything  as  a  material 
substance,  or  body,  we  either  have  had,  or  we  think  that  on  some 
given  supposition  we  should  have,  not  some  one  sensation,  but 
a  great  and  even  an  indefinite  number  and  variety  of  sensations, 
generally  belonging  to  different  senses,  but  so  linked  together, 
that  the  presence  of  one  announces  the  possible  presence  at  the 
very  same  instant  of  any  or  all  of  the  rest.  In  our  mind,  there- 
fore, not  only  is  this  particular  Possibility  of  sensation  invested 
with  the  quality  of  permanence  when  we  are  not  actually  feeling 


694  MILL 

any  of  the  sensations  at  all;  but  when  we  are  feeling  some  of 
them,  the  remaining  sensations  of  the  group  are  conceived  by 
us  in  the  form  of  Present  Possibilities,  which  might  be  realized 
at  the  very  moment.  And  as  this  happens  in  turn  to  all  of  them, 
the  group  as  a  whole  presents  itself  to  the  mind  as  permanent, 
in  contrast  not  solely  with  the  temporariness  of  my  bodily  pre- 
sence, but  also  with  the  temporary  character  of  each  of  the 
sensations  composing  the  group;  in -other  words,  as  a  kind  of 
permanent  substratum,  under  a  set  of  passing  experiences  or 
manifestations :  which  is  another  leading  character  of  our  idea 
of  substance  or  matter,  as  distinguished  from  sensation. 

Let  us  now  take  into  consideration  another  of  the  general 
characters  of  our  experience,  namely,  that  in  addition  to  fixed 
groups,  we  also  recognize  a  fixed  Order  in  our  sensations;  an 
Order  of  succession,  which,  when  ascertained  by  observation, 
gives  rise  to  the  ideas  of  Cause  and  Effect,  according  to  what 
I  hold  to  be  the  true  theory  of  that  relation,  and  is  in  any  case 
the  source  of  all  our  knowledge  what  causes  produce  what  effects. 
Now,  of  what  nature  is  this  fixed  order  among  our  sensations  ? 
It  is  a  constancy  of  antecedence  and  sequence.  But  the  constant 
antecedence  and  sequence  do  not  generally  exist  between  one 
actual  sensation  and  another.  Very  few  such  sequences  are  pre- 
sented to  us  by  experience.  In  almost  all  the  constant  sequences 
which  occur  hi  Nature,  the  antecedence  and  consequence  do 
not  obtain  between  sensations,  but  between  the  groups  we  have 
been  speaking  about,  of  which  a  very  small  portion  is  actual 
sensation,  the  greater  part  being  permanent  possibilities  of 
sensation,  evidenced  to  us  by  a  small  and  variable  number  of 
sensations  actually  present.  Hence,  our  ideas  of  causation,  power, 
activity,  do  not  become  connected  in  thought  with  our  sensations 
as  actual  at  all,  save  in  the  few  physiological  cases  where  these 
figure  by  themselves  as  the  antecedents  in  some  uniform  sequence. 
Those  ideas  become  connected,  not  with  sensations,  but  with 
groups  of  possibilities  of  sensation.  The  sensations  conceived 
do  not,  to  our  habitual  thoughts,  present  themselves  as  sensa- 
tions actually  experienced,  inasmuch  as  not  only  any  one  or  any 
number  of  them  may  be  supposed  absent,  but  none  of  them  need 


SIR  WILLIAM  HAMILTON'S   PHILOSOPHY    695 

be  present.  We  find  that  the  modifications  which  are  taking 
place  more  or  less  regularly  in  our  possibilities  of  sensation,  are 
mostly  quite  independent  of  our  consciousness,  and  of  our  pre- 
sence or  absence.  Whether  we  are  asleep  or  awake,  the  fire  goes 
out,  and  puts  an  end  to  one  particular  possibility  of  warmth 
and  light.  Whether  we  are  present  or  absent,  the  corn  ripens, 
and  brings  a  new  possibility  of  food.  Hence  we  speedily  learn 
to  think  of  Nature  as  made  up  solely  of  these  groups  of  possi- 
bilities, and  the  active  force  in  Nature  as  manifested  in  the  modi- 
fication of  some  of  these  by  others.  The  sensations,  though  the 
original  foundation  of  the  whole,  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  a 
sort  of  accident  depending  on  us,  and  the  possibilities  as  much 
more  real  than  the  actual  sensations,  nay,  as  the  very  realities 
of  which  these  are  only  the  representations,  appearances,  or 
effects.  When  this  state  of  mind  has  been  arrived  at,  then,  and 
from  that  time  forward,  we  are  never  conscious  of  a  present 
sensation  without  instantaneously  referring  it  to  some  one  of 
the  groups  of  possibilities  into  which  a  sensation  of  that  particular 
description  enters ;  and  if  we  do  not  yet  know  to  what  group  to 
refer  it,  we  at  least  feel  an  irresistible  conviction  that  it  must 
belong  to  some  group  or  other ;  i.  e.  that  its  presence  proves  the 
existence,  here  and  now,  of  a  great  number  and  variety  of  possi- 
bilities of  sensation,  without  which  it  would  not  have  been.  The 
whole  set  of  sensations  as  possible,  form  a  permanent  back- 
ground to  any  one  or  more  of  them  that  are,  at  a  given  mo- 
ment, actual;  and  the  possibilities  are  conceived  as  standing 
to  the  actual  sensations  in  the  relation  of  a  cause  to  its  effects, 
or  of  canvas  to  the  figures  painted  on  it,  or  of  a  root  to  the 
trunk,  leaves,  and  flowers,  or  of  a  substratum  to  that  which  is 
spread  over  it,  or,  in  transcendental  language,  of  Matter  to 
Form. 

When  this  point  has  been  reached,  the  Permanent  Possibilities 
in  question  have  assumed  such  unlikeness  of  aspect,  and  such 
difference  of  position  relatively  to  us,  from  any  sensations, 
that  it  would  be  contrary  to  all  we  know  of  the  constitution 
of  human  nature  that  they  should  not  be  conceived  as,  and 
believed  to  be,  at  least  as  different  from  sensations  as 


696  MILL 

sensations  are  from  one  another.  Their  groundwork  in  sensa- 
tion is  forgotten,  and  they  are  supposed  to  be  something  in- 
trinsically distinct  from  it.  We  can  withdraw  ourselves  from 
any  of  our  (external)  sensations,  or  we  can  be  withdrawn  from 
them  by  some  other  agency.  But  though  the  sensations  cease, 
the  possibilities  remain  in  existence;  they  are  independent  of 
our  will,  our  presence,  and  everything  which  belongs  to  us.  We 
find,  too,  that  they  belong  as  much  to  other  human  or  sentient 
beings  as  to  ourselves.  We  find  other  people  grounding  their 
expectations  and  conduct  upon  the  same  permanent  possibilities 
on  which  we  ground  ours.  But  we  do  not  find  "them  experiencing 
V  the  same  actual  sensations.  Other  people  do  not  have  our  sen- 
Rations  exactly  when  and  as  we  have  them:  but  they  have  our 
possibilities  of  sensation ;  whatever  indicates  a  present  possibility 
of  sensations  to  ourselves,  indicates  a  present  possibility  of 
similar  sensations  to  them,  except  so  far  as  their  organs  of  sen- 
(  sation  may  vary  from  the  type  of  ours.  This  puts  the  final  seal 
I  to  our  conception  of  the  groups  of  possibilities  as  the  funda- 
\  mental  reality  in  Nature.  The  permanent  possibilities  are  com- 
mon to  us  and  to  our  fellow-creatures ;  the  actual  sensations  are 
not.  That  which  other  people  become  aware  of  when,  and  on 
the  same  grounds  as  I  do,  seems  more  real  to  me  than  that  which 
they  do  not  know  of  unless  I  tell  them.  The  world  of  Possible 
Sensations  succeeding  one  another  according  to  laws,  is  as  much 
in  other  beings  as  it  is  in  me ;  it  has  therefore  an  existence  out- 
side me;  it  is  an  External  World. 

If  this  explanation  of  the  origin  and  growth  of  the  idea  of 
Matter,  or  External  Nature,  contains  nothing  at  variance  with 
natural  laws,  it  is  at  least  an  admissible  supposition,  that  the 
element  of  Non-ego  which  Sir  W.  Hamilton  regards  as  an 
original  datum  of  consciousness,  and  which  we  certainly  do  find 
in  our  present  consciousness,  may  not  be  one  of  its  primitive 
elements  —  may  not  have  existed  at  all  in  its  first  manifesta- 
tions. But  if  this  supposition  be  admissible,  it  ought,  on  Sir 
W.  Hamilton's  principles,  to  be  received  as  true.  The  first  of 
the  laws  laid  down  by  him  for  the  interpretation  of  Conscious- 
ness, the  law  (as  he  terms  it)  of  Parcimony,  forbids  to  suppose 


SIR  WILLIAM  HAMILTON'S  PHILOSOPHY    697 

an  original  principle  of  our  nature  in  order  to  account  for 
phenomena  which  admit  of  possible  explanation  from  known 
causes.  If  the  supposed  ingredient  of  consciousness  be  one  which 
might  grow  up  (though  we  cannot  prove  that  it  did  grow  up) 
through  later  experience;  and  if,  when  it  had  so  grown  up,  it 
would,  by  known  laws  of  our  nature,  appear  as  completely  in- 
tuitive as  our  sensations  themselves;  we  are  bound,  according 
to  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  and  all  sound  philosophy,  to  assign  to  it 
that  origin.  Where  there  is  a  known  cause  adequate  to  account 
for  a  phenomenon,  there  is  no  justification  for  ascribing  it  to  an 
unknown  one.  And  what  evidence  does  Consciousness  furnish 
of  the  intuitiveness  of  an  impression,  except  instantaneousness, 
apparent  simplicity,  and  unconsciousness  on  our  part  of  how 
the  impression  came  into  our  minds?  These  features  can  only 
prove  the  impression  to  be  intuitive,  on  the  hypothesis  that  there 
are  no  means  of  accounting  for  them  otherwise.  If  they  not  only 
might,  but  naturally  would,  exist,  even  on  the  supposition  that  it 
is  not  intuitive,  we  must  accept  the  conclusion  to  which  we  are 
led  by  the  Psychological  Method,  and  which  the  Introspective 
Method  furnishes  absolutely  nothing  to  contradict. 

Matter,  then,  may  be  defined,  a  Permanent  Possibility  of 
Sensation.  If  I  am  asked  whether  I  believe  in  matter,  I  ask 
whether  the  questioner  accepts  this  definition  of  it.  If  he  does, 
I  believe  in  matter:  and  so  do  all  Berkeleians.  In  any  other 
sense  than  this,  I  do  not.  But  I  affirm  with  confidence,  that  this 
conception  of  Matter  includes  the  whole  meaning  attached  to  it 
by  the  common  world,  apart  from  philosophical,  and  sometimes 
from  theological,  theories.  The  reliance  of  mankind  on  the  real 
existence  of  visible  and  tangible  objects,  means  reliance  on  the 
reality  and  permanence  of  Possibilities  of  visual  and  tactual 
sensations,  when  no  such  sensations  are  actually  experienced. 
We  are  warranted  in  believing  that  this  is  the  meaning  of  Matter 
in  the  minds  of  many  of  its  most  esteemed  metaphysical  cham- 
pions, though  they  themselves  would  not  admit  as  much:  for 
example,  of  Reid,  Stewart,  and  Brown.  For  these  three  philo- 
sophers alleged  that  all  mankind,  including  Berkeley  and  Hume, 
really  believed  in  Matter,  inasmuch  as  unless  they  did,  they 


698  MILL 

would  not  have  turned  aside  to  save  themselves  from  running 
against  a  post.  Now,  all  which  this  manoeuvre  really  proved  is, 
I  that  they  believed  in  Permanent  Possibilities  of  Sensation.  We 
have  therefore  the  sanction  of  these  three  eminent  defenders  of 
the  existence  of  matter,  for  affirming,  that  to  believe  in  Permanent 
Possibilities  of  Sensation  is  believing  in  Matter.  It  is  hardly 
necessary,  after  such  authorities,  to  mention  Dr.  Johnson,  or 
any  one  else  who  resorts  to  the  argumentum  baculinum  of  knock- 
ing a  stick  against  the  ground.  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  a  far  subtler 
thinker  than  any  of  these,  never  reasons  in  this  manner.  He 
never  supposes  that  a  disbeliever  in  what  he  means  by  Matter, 
ought  in  consistency  to  act  in  any  different  mode  from  those  who 
believe  in  it.  He  knew  that  the  belief  on  which  all  the  practical 
consequences  depend,  is  the  belief  in  Permanent  Possibilities 
of  Sensation,  and  that  if  nobody  believed  in  a  material  universe 
in  any  other  sense,  life  would  go  on  exactly  as  it  now  does.  He, 
however,  did  believe  in  more  than  this,  but,  I  think,  only  because 
it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  mere  Possibilities  of  Sensa- 
tion could,  to  our  artificialized  consciousness,  present  the  char- 
acter of  objectivity  which,  as  we  have  now  shown,  they  not  only 
can,  but  unless  the  known  laws  of  the  human  mind  were  sus- 
pended, must  necessarily,  present. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  objected,  that  the  very  possibility  of  fram- 
ing such  a  notion  of  Matter  as  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  —  the  capacity 
^  in  the  human  mind  of  imagining  an  external  world  which  is 
1  anything  more  than  what  the  Psychological  Theory  makes  it  — 
amounts  to  a  disproof  of  the  theory.  If  (it  may  be  said)  we  had 
no  revelation  in  consciousness,  of  a  world  which  is  not  in  some 
way  or  other  identified  with  sensation,  we  should  be  unable  to 
have  the  notion  of  such  a  world.  If  the  only  ideas  we  had  of 
external  objects  were  ideas  of  our  sensations,  supplemented  by 
an  acquired  notion  of  permanent  possibilities  of  sensation,  we 
must  (it  is  thought)  be  incapable  of  conceiving,  and  therefore 
still  more  incapable  of  fancying  that  we  perceive,  things  which 
are  not  sensations  at  all.  It  being  evident,  however,  that  some 
philosophers  believe  this,  and  it  being  maintainable  that  the 
mass  of  mankind  do  so,  the  existence  of  a  perdurable  basis  of 


SIR  WILLIAM  HAMILTON'S   PHILOSOPHY    699 

sensations,  distinct  from  sensations  themselves,  is  proved,  it 
might  be  said,  by  the  possibility  of  believing  it. 

Let  me  first  restate  what  I  apprehend  the  belief  to  be.  We 
believe  that  we  perceive  a  something  closely  related  to  all  our 
sensations,  but  different  from  those  which  we  are  feeling  at  any 
particular  minute ;  and  distinguished  from  sensations  altogether, 
by  being  permanent  and  always  the  same,  while  these  are  fugi- 
tive, variable,  and  alternately  displace  one  another.  But  these 
attributes  of  the  object  of  perception  are  properties  belonging 
to  all  the  possibilities  of  sensation  which  experience  guarantees. 
The  belief  in  such  permanent  possibilities  seems  to  me  to  include 
all  that  is  essential  or  characteristic  in  the  belief  in  substance. 
I  believe  that  Calcutta  exists,  though  I  do  not  perceive  it,  and 
that  it  would  still  exist  if  every  percipient  inhabitant  were  sud- 
denly to  leave  the  place,  or  be  struck  dead.  But  when  I  analyze 
the  belief,  all  I  find  in  it  is,  that  were  these  events  to  take  place, 
the  Permanent  Possibility  of  Sensation  which  I  call  Calcutta 
would  still  remain;  that  if  I  were  suddenly  transported  to  the 
banks  of  the  Hoogly,  I  should  still  have  the  sensations  which, 
if  now  present,  would  lead  me  to  affirm  that  Calcutta  exists  here 
and  now.  We  may  infer,  therefore,  that  both  philosophers  and 
the  world  at  large,  when  they  think  of  matter,  conceive  it  really 
as  a  Permanent  Possibility  of  Sensation.  But  the  majority  of 
philosophers  fancy  that  it  is  something  more ;  and  the  world  at 
large,  though  they  have  really,  as  I  conceive,  nothing  in  their 
minds  but  a  Permanent  Possibility  of  Sensation,  would,  if  asked 
the  question,  undoubtedly  agree  with  the  philosophers :  and  though 
this  is  sufficiently  explained  by  the  tendency  of  the  human  mind 
to  infer  difference  of  things  from  difference  of  names,  I  acknow- 
ledge the  obligation  of  showing  how  it  can  be  possible  to  believe 
in  an  existence  transcending  all  possibilities  of  sensation,  unless 
on  the  hypothesis  that  such  an  existence  actually  is,  and  that 
we  actually  perceive  it. 

The  explanation,  however,  is  not  difficult.  It  is  an  admitted 
fact,  that  we  are  capable  of  all  conceptions  which  can  be  formed 
by  generalizing  from  the  observed  laws  of  our  sensations.  What- 
ever relation  we  find  to  exist  between  any  one  of  our  sensations 


700  MILL 

and  something  different  from  it,  that  same  relation  we  have  no 
difficulty  in  conceiving  to  exist  between  the  sum  of  all  our  sensa- 
tions and  something  different  from  them.  The  differences  which 
our  consciousness  recognizes  between  one  sensation  and  another, 
give  us  the  general  notion  of  difference,  and  inseparably  asso- 
ciate with  every  sensation  we  have,  the  feeling  of  its  being  differ- 
ent from  other  things ;  and  when  once  this  association  has  been 
formed,  we  can  no  longer  conceive  anything,  without  being  able, 
and  even  being  compelled,  to  form  also  the  conception  of  some- 
thing different  from  it.  This  familiarity  with  the  idea  of  some- 
thing different  from  each  thing  we  know,  makes  it  natural  and 
easy  to  form  the  notion  of  something  different  from  all  things 
that  we  know,  collectively  as  well  as  individually.  It  is  true  we 
can  form  no  conception  of  what  such  a  thing  can  be ;  our  notion 
of  it  is  merely  negative;  but  the  idea  of  substance,  apart  from 
the  impressions  it  makes  on  our  senses,  is  a  merely  negative  one. 
There  is  thus  no  psychological  obstacle  to  our  forming  the  notion 
of  a  something  which  is  neither  a  sensation  nor  a  possibility  of 
sensation,  even  if  our  consciousness  does  not  testify  to  it ;  and 
nothing  is  more  likely  than  that  the  Permanent  Possibilities  of 
Sensation,  to  which  our  consciousness  does  testify,  should  be 
confounded  in  our  minds  with  this  imaginary  conception.  All 
experience  attests  the  strength  of  the  tendency  to  mistake  mental 
abstractions,  even  negative  ones,  for  substantive  realities;  and 
the  Permanent  Possibilities  of  Sensation  which  experience  guar- 
antees, are  so  extremely  unlike  in  many  of  their  properties  to 
actual  sensations,  that  since  we  are  capable  of  imagining  some- 
thing which  transcends  sensation,  there  is  a  great  natural  prob- 
ability that  we  should  suppose  these  to  be  it. 

But  this  natural  probability  is  converted  into  certainty,  when 
we  take  into  consideration  that  universal  law  of  our  experience 
which  is  termed  the  law  of  Causation,  and  which  makes  us  un- 
able to  conceive  the  beginning  of  anything  without  an  antece- 
dent condition,  or  Cause.  The  case  of  Causation  is  one  of  the 
most  marked  of  all  the  cases  in  which  we  extend  to  the  sum 
total  of  our  consciousness,  a  notion  derived  from  its  parts.  It  is 
a  striking  example  of  our  power  to  conceive,  and  our  tendency 


SIR  WILLIAM  HAMILTON'S  PHILOSOPHY 

to  believe,  that  a  relation  which  subsists  between  every  indi- 
vidual item  of  our  experience  and  some  other  item,  subsists  also 
between  our  experience  as  a  whole,  and  something  not  within 
the  sphere  of  experience.  By  this  extension  to  the  sum  of  all 
our  experiences,  of  the  internal  relations  obtaining  between  its 
several  parts,  we  are  led  to  consider  sensation  itself  —  aggre- 
gate whole  of  our  sensations  as  deriving  its  origin  from  antece- 
dent existences  transcending  sensation.  That  we  should  do  this, 
is  a  consequence  of  the  particular  character  of  the  uniform  se- 
quences, which  experience  discloses  to  us  among  our  sensations. 
As  already  remarked,  the  constant  antecedent  of  a  sensation  is 
seldom  another  sensation,  or  set  of  sensations,  actually  felt.  It 
is  much  oftener  the  existence  of  a  group  of  possibilities,  not 
necessarily  including  any  actual  sensations,  except  such  as  are 
required  to  show  that  the  possibilities  are  really  present.  Nor  are 
actual  sensations  indispensable  even  for  this  purpose;  for  the 
presence  of  the  object  (which  is  nothing  more  than  the  immedi- 
ate presence  of  the  possibilities)  may  be  made  known  to  us  by 
the  very  sensation  which  we  refer  to  it  as  its  effect.  Thus,  the 
real  antecedent  of  an  effect  —  the  only  antecedent  which,  being 
invariable  and  unconditional,  we  consider  to  be  the  cause — may 
be,  not  any  sensation  really  felt,  but  solely  the  presence,  at  that 
or  the  immediately  preceding  moment,  of  a  group  of  possibilities 
of  sensation.  Hence  it  is  not  with  sensations  as  actually  experi- 
enced, but  with  their  Permanent  Possibilities,  that  the  idea  of 
Cause  comes  to  be  identified:  and  we,  by  one  and  the  same 
process,  acquire  the  habit  of  regarding  Sensation  in  general,  like 
all  our  individual  sensations,  as  an  Effect,  and  also  that  of  con- 
ceiving as  the  causes  of  most  of  our  individual  sensations,  not 
other  sensations,  but  general  possibilities  of  sensation.  If  all 
these  considerations  put  together  do  not  completely  explain  and 
account  for  our  conceiving  these  Possibilities  as  a  class  of  inde- 
pendent and  substantive  entities,  I  know  not  what  psychological 
analysis  can  be  conclusive. 

It  may  perhaps  be  said,  that  the  preceding  theory  gives,  in- 
deed, some  account  of  the  idea  of  Permanent  Existence  which 
forms  part  of  our  conception  of  matter,  but  gives  no  explanation 


702  MILL 

of  our  believing  these  permanent  objects  to  be  external,  or  out 
of  ourselves.  I  apprehend,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  very  idea  of 
anything  out  of  ourselves  is  derived  solely  from  the  know- 
ledge experience  gives  us  of  the  Permanent  Possibilities.  Our 
sensations  we  carry  with  us  wherever  we  go,  and  they  never 
exist  where  we  are  not;  but  when  we  change  our  place  \ve  do 
not  carry  awaj  with  us  the  Permanent  Possibilities  of  Sensation  : 
they  remain  until  we  return,  or  arise  and  cease  under  conditions 
with  which  our  presence  has  in  general  nothing  to  do.  And  more 
than  all  —  they  are,  and  will  be  after  we  have  ceased  to  feel, 
Permanent  Possibilities  of  Sensation  to  other  beings  than  our- 
selves. Thus  our  actual  sensations  and  the  permanent  possi- 
bilities of  sensation,  stand  out  in  obtrusive  contrast  to  one 
another :  and  when  the  idea  of  Cause  has  been  acquired,  and 
extended  by  generalization  from  the  parts  of  our  experience  to 
its  aggregate  whole,  nothing  can  be  more  natural  than  that  the 
Permanent  Possibilities  should  be  classed  by  us  as  existences 
generically  distinct  from  our  sensations,  but  of  which  our  sen- 
sations are  the  effect. 

The  same  theory  which  accounts  for  our  ascribing  to  an  aggre- 
gate of  possibilities  of  sensation,  a  permanent  existence  which 
our  sensations  themselves  do  not  possess,  and  consequently  a 
greater  reality  than  belongs  to  our  sensations,  also  explains  our 
attributing  greater  objectivity  to  the  Primary  Qualities  of  bodies 
than  to  the  Secondary.  For  the  sensations  which  correspond  to 
what  are  called  the  Primary  Qualities  (as  soon  at  least  as  we 
come  to  apprehend  them  by  two  senses,  the  eye  as  well  as  the 
touch)  are  always  present  when  any  part  of  the  group  is  so.  But 
colors,  tastes,  smells,  and  the  like,  being,  in  comparison,  fuga- 
cious, are  not,  in  the  same  degree,  conceived  as  being  always 
there,  even  when  nobody  is  present  to  perceive  them.  The  sen- 
sations answering.to  the  Secondary  Qualities  are  only  occasional, 
those  to  the  primary,  constant.  The  Secondary,  moreover,  vary 
with  different  persons,  and  with  the  temporary  sensibility  of 
our  organs :  the  Primary,  when  perceived  at  all,  are,  as  far  as  we 
know,  the  same  to  all  persons  and  at  all  times. 


HERBERT  SPENCER 

(1820-1903) 

FIRST   PRINCIPLES   OF   A  NEW   SYSTEM   OF 
PHILOSOPHY* 

PART   I. —THE   UNKNOWABLE 

§  31.  SOME  do  indeed  allege  that  though  the  Ultimate  Cause 
of  things  cannot  really  be  conceived  by  us  as  having  specified 
attributes,  it  is  yet  incumbent  upon  us  to  assert  those  attributes. 
Though  the  forms  of  our  consciousness  are  such  that  the  Abso- 
lute cannot  in  any  manner  or  degree  be  brought  within  them, 
we  are  nevertheless  told  that  we  must  represent  the  Absolute 
to  ourselves  as  having  certain  characters.  As  writes  Mr.  Mansel, 
in  the  workf  from  which  I  have  already  quoted  largely — "It 
is  our  duty,  then,  to  think  of  God  as  personal ;  and  it  is  our  duty 
to  believe  that  He  is  infinite." 

Now  if  there  be  any  meaning  in  the  foregoing  arguments, 
duty  requires  us  neither  to  affirm  nor  deny  personality.  Our 
duty  is  to  submit  ourselves  to  the  established  limits  of  our  intel- 
ligence, and  not  perversely  to  rebel  against  them.  Let  those 
who  can,  believe  that  there  is  eternal  war  set  between  our  intel- 
lectual faculties  and  our  moral  obligations.  I,  for  one,  admit 
no  such  radical  vice  in  the  constitution  of  things. 

This  which  to  most  will  seem  an  essentially  irreligious  posi- 
tion, is  an  essentially  religious  one  —  nay  is  the  religious  one,  to 
which,  as  already  shown,  all  others  are  but  approximations. 
In  the  estimate  it  implies  of  the  Ultimate  Cause,  it  does  not  fall 
short  6f  the  alternative  position,  but  exceeds  it.  Those  who 
espouse  this  alternative  position,  assume  that  the  choice  is 
between  personality  and  something  lower  than  personality; 
whereas  the  choice  is  rather  between  personality  and  some- 

*  First  edition,  London,  Williams  &  Norgate,  1862.   Reprinted  here  from  6th 
American  copyright  edition,  New  York,  D.  Appleton  &  Co,  1903. 
f  H.  L.  Mansel,  Limits  of  Religious  Thought,  London,  1858. 


7o4  SPENCER 

thing  that  may  be  higher.  Is  it  not  possible  that  there  is  a  mode 
of  being  as  much  transcending  Intelligence  and  Will,  as  these 
transcend  mechanical  motion?  Doubtless  we  are  totally  un- 
able to  imagine  any  such  higher  mode  of  being.  But  this  is  not 
a  reason  for  questioning  its  existence;  it  is  rather  the  reverse. 
Have  we  not  seen  how  utterly  unable  our  minds  are  to  form 
even  an  approach  to  a  conception  of  that  which  underlies  all 
phenomena  ?  Is  it  not  proved  that  we  fail  because  of  the  incom- 
petency  of  the  Conditioned  to  grasp  the  Unconditioned  ? )  Does 
it  not  follow  that  the  Ultimate  Cause  cannot  in  any  respect  be 
conceived  because  it  is  in  every  respect  greater  than  can  be 
conceived?  And  may  we  not  therefore  rightly  refrain  from 
assigning  to  it  any  attributes  whatever,  on  the  ground  that  such 
attributes,  derived  as  they  must  be  from  our  own  natures,  are 
not  elevations  but  degradations?  llndeed  it  seems  strange  that 
men  should  suppose  the  highest  worship  to  lie  in  assimilating 
the  object  of  their  worship  to  themselves.  Not  in  asserting  a 
transcendent  difference,  but  in  asserting  a  certain  likeness, 
consists  the  element  of  their  creed  which  they  think  essential. 
It  is  true  that  from  the  time  when  the  rudest  savages  imagined 
the  causes  of  things  to  be  persons  like  themselves  but  invisible, 
down  to  our  own  time,  the  degree  of  assumed  likeness  has  been 
diminishing.  But  though  a  bodily  form  and  substance  similar 
to  that  of  man,  has  long  since  ceased,  among  cultivated  races, 
to  be  a  liter  ally- conceived  attribute  of  the  Ultimate  Cause  — 
though  the  grosser  human  desires  have  been  also  rejected  as  unfit 
elements  of  the  conception  —  though  there  is  some  hesitation  in 
ascribing  even  the  higher  human  feelings,  save  in  idealized 
shapes;  yet  it  is  still  thought  not  only  proper,  but  imperative, 
to  ascribe  the  most  abstract  qualities  of  our  nature.  To  think 
of  the  Creative  Power  as  in  all  respects  anthropomorphous,  is 
now  considered  impious  by  men  who  yet  hold  themselves  bound 
to  think  of  the  Creative  Power  as  in  some  respects  anthropo- 
morphous; and  who  do  not  see  that  the  one  proceeding  is  but 
an  evanescent  form  of  the  other.  And  then,  most  marvellous 
of  all,  this  course  is  persisted  in  even  by  those  who  contend 
that  we  are  wholly  unable  to  frame  any  conception  whatever 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    705 

of  the  Creative  Power.  After  it  has  been  shown  that  every  sup- 
position respecting  the  genesis  of  the  Universe  commits  us  to 
alternative  impossibilities  of  thought  —  after  it  has  been  shown 
why,  by  the  very  constitution  of  our  minds,  we  are  debarred 
from  thinking  of  the  Absolute ;  it  is  still  asserted  that  we  ought 
to  think  of  the  Absolute  thus  and  thus.  |  In  all  ways  we  find 
thrust  on  us  the  truth,  that  we  are  not  permitted  to  know - 
nay  are  not  even  permitted  to  conceive  —  that  Reality  which 
is  behind  the  veil  of  Appearance;  and  yet  it  is  said  to  be  our 
duty  to  believe  (and  in  so  far  to  conceive)  that  this  Reality 
exists  in  a  certain  defined  manner.  Shall  we  call  this  reverence  ? 
or  shall  we  call  it  the  reverse?  \ 

Volumes  might  be  written  upon  the  impiety  of  the  pious. 
Through  the  printed  and  spoken  thoughts  of  religious  teachers, 
may  everywhere  be  traced  a  professed  familiarity  with  the 
ultimate  mystery  of  things,  which,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  is  any- 
thing but  congruous  with  the  accompanying  expressions  of 
humility.  The  attitude  thus  assumed  can  be  fitly  represented 
only  by  further  developing  a  isimile  long  current  in  theological 
controversies  —  the  simile  of  the  watch.  If  for  a  moment  we 
made  the  grotesque  supposition  that  the  tickings  and  other 
movements  of  a  watch  constituted  a  kind  of  consciousness; 
and  that  a  watch  possessed  of  such  a  consciousness,  insisted 
on  regarding  the  watchmaker's  actions  as  determined  like  its 
own  by  springs  and  escapements;  we  should  simply  complete 
a  parallel  of  which  religious  teachers  think  much.  And  were 
we  to  suppose  that  a  watch  not  only  formulated  the  cause  of  its 
existence  in  these  mechanical  terms,  but  held  that  watches 
were  bound  out  of  reverence  so  to  formulate  this  cause,  and 
even  vituperated,  as  atheistic  watches,  any  that  did  not  venture 
so  to  formulate  it;  we  should  merely  illustrate  the  presumption 
of  theologians  by  carrying  their  own  argument  a  step  further. 
A  few  extracts  will  bring  home  to  the  reader  the  justice  of  this 
comparison.  We  are  told,  for  example,  by  one  of  high  repute 
among  religious  thinkers,  that  the  Universe  is  "the  manifesta- 
tion and  abode  of  a  Free  Mind,  like  our  own;  embodying  His 
personal  thought  in  its  adjustments,  realizing  His  own  ideal 


;o6  SPENCER 

in  its  phenomena,  just  as  we  express  our  inner  faculty  and 
character  through  the  natural  language  of  an  external  life.  In 
this  view,  we  interpret  Nature  by  Humanity;  we  find  the  key 
to  her  aspects  in  such  purposes  and  affections  as  our  own 
consciousness  enables  us  to  conceive;  we  look  everywhere  for 
physical  signals  of  an  ever-living  Will ;  and  decipher  the  universe 
as  the  autobiography  of  an  Infinite  Spirit,  repeating  itself  in 
miniature  within  our  Finite  Spirit."  The  same  writer  goes  still 
further.  He  not  only  thus  parallels  the  assimilation  of  the  watch- 
maker to  the  watch, — he  not  only  thinks  the  created  can  "de- 
cipher" "the  autobiography"  of  the  Creating;  but  he  asserts 
that  the  necessary  limits  to  the  one  are  necessary  limits  to  the 
other.  The  primary  qualities  of  bodies,  he  says,  "belong  eter- 
nally to  the  material  datum  objective  to  God"  and  control  his 
acts;  while  the  secondary  ones  are  "products  of  pure  Inventive 
Reason  and  Determining  Will"  —  constitute  "the  realm  of 
Divine  originality."  .  .  .  "While  on  this  Secondary  field  His 
Mind  and  ours  are  thus  contrasted,  they  meet  in  resem- 
blance again  upon  the  Primary  ;]for  the  evolutions  of  deductive 
Reason  there  is  but  one  track  possible  to  all  intelligences  J  no 
merum  arbitrium  can  interchange  the  false  and  true,  or  make 
more  than  one  geometry,  one  scheme  of  pure  physics,  for  all 
worlds;  and  the  Omnipotent  Architect  Himself,  in  realizing 
the  Kosfnical  conception,  in  shaping  the  orbits  out  of  immensity 
and  determining  seasons  out  of  eternity,  could  but  follow  the 
laws  of  curvature,  measure  and  proportion."  |  That  is  to  say, 
the  Ultimate  Cause  is  like  a  human  mechanic,  not  only  as 
"shaping"  the  "material  datum  objective  to"  Him,  but  also  as 
being  obliged  to  conform  to  the  necessary  properties  of  that 
datum.  |  Nor  is  this  all.  There  follows  some  account  of  "the 
Divine  -psychology,"  to  the  extent  of  saying  that  "we  learn" 
"the  character  of  God  —  the  order  of  affections  in  Him"  from 
"the  distribution  of  authority  in  the  hierarchy  of  our  impulses." 
I  In  other  words,  it  is  alleged  that  the  Ultimate  Cause  has  desires 
that  are  to  be  classed  as  higher  and  lower  like  our  own.1]  Every 

1  These  extracts  are  from  an  article  entitled  "Nature  and  God,"  published 
in  the  National  Review  for  October,  1860,  by  Dr.  Martineau. 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    707 

one  has  heard  of  the  king  who  wished  he  had  been  present  at 
the  creation  of  the  world,  that  he  might  have  given  good  advice. 
He  was  humble,  however,  compared  with  those  who  profess  to 
understand  not  only  the  relation  of  the  Creating  to  the  created, 
but  also  how  the  Creating  is  constituted,  l  And  yet  this  transcend- 
ent audacity,  which  thinks  to  penetrate  the  secrets  of  the 
Power  manifested  through  all  existence  —  nay,  even  to  stand 
behind  that  Power  and  note  the  conditions  to  its  action — this 
it  is  which  passes  current  as  piety!  |May  we  not  affirm  that  a 
sincere  recognition  of  the  truth  that  our  own  and  all  other 
existence  is  a  mystery  absolutely  beyond  our  comprehension, 
contains  more  of  true  religion  than  all  the  dogmatic  theology 
ever  written  ?  \ 

Meanwhile  let  us  recognize  whatever  of  permanent  good 
there  is  in  these  persistent  attempts  to  frame  conceptions  of 
that  which  cannot  be  conceived.  From  the  beginning  it  has  been 
only  through  the  successive  failures  of  such  conceptions  to 
satisfy  the  mind,  that  higher  and  higher  ones  have  been  grad- 
ually reached;  and  doubtless,  the  conceptions  now  current  are 
indispensable  as  transitional  modes  of  thought.  Even  more 
than  this  may  be  willingly  conceded.  It  is  possible,  nay  prob- 
able, that  under  their  most  abstract  forms,  ideas  of  this  order 
will  always  continue  to  occupy  the  background  of  our  con- 
sciousness. Very  likely  there  will  ever  remain  a  need  to  give, 
shape  to  that  indefinite  sense  of  an  Ultimate  Existence,  which 
forms  the  basis  of  our  intelligence.  We  shall  always  be  under 
the  necessity  of  contemplating  it  as  some  mode  oi  being ;  that  is, 
of  representing  it  to  ourselves  in  some  form  of  thought,  how- 
ever vague.  And  we  shall  not  err  in  doing  this  so  long  as  we 
treat  every  notion  we  thus  frame  as  merely  a^symboj.  Perhaps 
the  constant  formation  of  such  symbols  and  constant  rejection 
of  them  as  inadequate,  may  be  hereafter,  as  it  has  hitherto  been, 
a  means  of  discipline./  Perpetually  to  construct  ideas  requiring 
the  utmost  stretch  of  our  faculties,  and  perpetually  to  find  that 
such  ideas  must  be  abandoned  as  futile  imaginations,  may 
realize  to  us  more  fully  than  any  other  course,  the  greatness  of 
that  which  we  vainly  strive  to  grasp. |  By  continually  seeking 


;o8  SPENCER 

to  know  and  being  continually  thrown  back  with  a  deepened 
conviction  of  the  impossibility  of  knowing,  we  may  keep  alive 
the  consciousness  that  it  is  alike  our  highest  wisdom  and  our 
highest  duty  to  regard  that  through  which  all  things  exist  as 
The  Unknowable. 


PART   II.  — THE   KNOWABLE 
CHAPTER   I.   PHILOSOPHY    DEFINED 

§  35.  After  concluding  that  we  cannot  know  the  ultimate 
nature  of  that  which  is  manifested  to  us,  there  arise  the  ques- 
tions —  What  is  it  that  we  know  ?  In  what  sense  do  we  know  it  ? 
And  in  what  consists  our  highest  knowledge  of  it?  Having 
repudiated  as  impossible  the  Philosophy  which  professes  to 
formulate  Being  as  distinguished  from  Appearance,  it  becomes 
needful  to  say  that  Philosophy  truly  is  —  not  simply  to  specify 
its  limits,  but  to  specify  its  character  within  those  limits/  Given 
the  sphere  to  which  human  intelligence  is  restricted,  and  there 
remains  to  define  that  product  of  human  intelligence  which 
may  still  be  called  Philosophy. 

Here,  we  may  fitly  avail  ourselves  of  the  method  followed 
at  the  outset  —  that  of  separating  from  conceptions  which  are 
partially  or  mainly  erroneous,  the  element  of  truth  they  con- 
tain. As  in  the  chapter  on  "Religion  and  Science,"  it  was  in- 
ferred that  religious  beliefs,  wrong  as  they  may  severally  be, 
nevertheless  probably  each  contain  an  essential  verity,  and 
that  this  is  most  likely  common  to  them  all;  so  in  this  place 
it  is  to  be  inferred  that  past  and  present  beliefs  respecting  the 
nature  of  Philosophy,*  are  none  of  them  wholly  false,  and  that 
that  in  which  they  are  true  is  that  in  which  they  agree.  \  We  have 
here,  then,  to  do  what  was  done  there  —  to  compare  all  opinions 
of  the  same  genus ;  to  set  aside  as  more  or  less  discrediting  one 
another  those  elements  in  which  such  opinions  differ ;  to  observe 
what  remains  after  the  discordant  components  have  been  can- 
celled ;  and  to  find  for  this  remaining  component  that  expression 
which  holds  true  throughout  its  divergent  forms.  S 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES   OF  PHILOSOPHY    709 

§  36.  Earlier  speculations  being  passed  over,  we  see  that 
among  the  Greeks,  before  there  had  arisen  any  notion  of  Phi- 
losophy in  general,  I  those  particular  forms  of  it  from  which  the 
general  notion  was  to  arise,  were  hypotheses  respecting  some 
universal  principle  which  was  the  essence  of  all  kinds  of  being,  j 
To  the  question  —  "What  is  that  invariable  existence  of  which 
these  are  variable  states?11  there  were  sundry  answers  —  Water, 
Air,  Fire.  A  class  of  suppositions  of  this  all-embracing  character 
having  been  propounded,  it  became  possible  for  Pythagoras  to 
conceive  of  Philosophy  in  the  abstract,  as  knowledge  the  most 
remote  from  practical  ends;  and  to  define  it  as  " knowledge  of 
immaterial  and  eternal  things:"  "the  cause  of  the.  material 
existence  of  things"  being,  in  his  view,  Number.  Thereafter, 
was  continued  a  pursuit  of  Philosophy  as  some  deepest  expla- 
nation of  the  Universe,  assumed  to  be  possible,  whether  actually 
reached  in  any  case  or  not.  And  in  the  course  of  this  pursuit, 
various  such  interpretations  were  given  as  that  "  One  is  the 
beginning  of  all  things;"  that  "the  One  is  God;"  that  "the  One 
is  Finite;"  that  "the  One  is  Infinite;"  that  "Intelligence  is  the 
governing  principle  of  things;"  and  so  on.  |  From  all  which  it 
is  plain  that  the  knowledge  supposed  to  constitute  Philosophy,' 
differed  from  other  knowledge  in  its  exhaustive  charact^rj 
After  the  Sceptics  had  shaken  men's  faith  in  their  powers  of 
reaching  such  transcendent  knowledge,  there  grew  up  a  much-, 
restricted  conception  of  Philosophy.  Under  Socrates,  and  still 
more  under  the  Stoics,  Philosophy  became  little  else  than  the 
doctrine  of  right  living.  Not  indeed  that  the  proper  ruling  of 
conduct,  as  conceived  by  sundry  of  the  later  Greek  thinkers  to 
constitute  the  subject-matter  of  Philosophy,  answered  to  what 
was  popularly  understood  by  the  proper  ruling  of  conduct.  The 
injunctions  of  Zeno  were  not  of  the  same  class  as  those  which 
guided  men  in  their  daily  observances,  sacrifices,  customs,  all 
having  more  or  less  of  religious  sanction ;  but  they  were  principles 
of  action  enunciated  without  reference  to  times,  or  persons,  or 
special  cases.  What,  then,  was  the  constant  element  in  these 
unlike  ideas  of  Philosophy  held  by  the  ancients?  (dearly  this 
last  idea  agrees  with  the  first,  in  implying  that  Philosophy  seeks 


;io  SPENCER 

for  wide  and  deep  truths,  as  distinguished  from  the  multitudi- 
nous detailed  truths  which  the  surfaces  of  things  and  actions 
present.! 

By  comparing  the  conceptions  of  Philosophy  that  have  been 
current  in  modern  times,  we  get  a  like  result.  The  disciples 
of  Schelling  and  Fichte  join  the  Hegelian  in  ridiculing  the  so- 
called  Philosophy  which  has  been  current  in  England.  Not 
without  reason,  they  laugh  on  reading  of  "Philosophical  instru- 
ments;" and  would  deny  that  any  one  of  the  papers  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions  has  the  least  claim  to  come  under 
such  a  title.  Retaliating  on  their  critics,  the  English  may,  and 
most  of  them  do,  reject  as  absurd  the  imagined  Philosophy  of 
the  German  schools.  They  hold  that  whether  consciousness  does 
or  does  not  vouch  for  the  existence  of  something  beyond  itself, 
it  at  any  rate  cannot  comprehend  that  something ;  and  that  hence, 
in  so  far  as  any  Philosophy  professes  to  be  an  Ontology,  it  is 
false.  These  two  views  cancel  one  another  over  large  parts  of 
their  areas.  The  English  criticism  on  the  Germans,  cuts  off  from 
Philosophy  all  that  is  regarded  as  absolute  knowledge.  *The 
German  criticism  on  the  English  tacitly  implies  that  if  Philo- 
sophy is  limited  to  the  relative,  it  is  at  any  rate  not  concerned 
with  those  aspects  of  the  relative  which  are  embodied  in  mathe- 
matical formulae,  in  accounts  of  physical  researches,  in  chemical 
analyses,  or  in  descriptions  of  species  and  reports  of  physio- 
logical experiments.  Now  what  has  the  too-wide  German  con- 
ception in  common  with  the  conception  current  among  English 
men  of  science ;  which,  narrow  and  crude  as  it  is,  is  not  so  nar- 
row  and  crude  as  their  misuse  of  the  word  philosophical  indicates  ?- 
I  The  two  have  this  in  common,  that  neither  Germans  nor  English 
apply  the  word  to  unsystematized  knowledge  —  to  knowledge 
quite  un-coordinated  with  other  knowledge.!  Even  the  most 
limited  specialist  would  not  describe  as  philosophical,  an  essay 
which,  dealing  wholly  with  details,  manifested  no  perception  of 
the  bearings  of  those  details  on  wider  truths. 

The  vague  idea  of  Philosophy  thus  raised  may  be  rendered 
more  definite  by  comparing  what  has  been  known  in  England 
as  Natural  Philosophy  with  that  development  of  it  called  Posi- 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    711 

tive  Philosophy.  Though,  as  M.  Comte  admits,  the  two  consist 
of  knowledge  essentially  the  same  in  kind;  yet,  by  having  put 
this  kind  of  knowledge  into  a  more  coherent  form,  he  has  given 
it  more  of  that  character  to  which  the  term  philosophical  is 
applied.  Without  saying  anything  about  the  character  of  his 
co-ordination,  it  must  be  conceded  that,  by  the  fact  of  its  co- 
ordination, the  body  of  knowledge  organized  by  him  has  a  better 
claim  to  the  title  Philosophy,  than  has  the  comparatively  un- 
organized body  of  knowledge  named  Natural  Philosophy. 

If  subdivisions  of  Philosophy  be  contrasted  with  one  another, 
or  with  the  whole,  the  same  implication  comes  out.  Moral 
Philosophy  and  Political  Philosophy,  agree  with  Philosophy  at 
large  in  the  comprehensiveness  of  their  reasonings  and  conclu- 
sions. Though  under  the  head  Moral  Philosophy,  we  treat  of 
human  actions  as  right  or  wrong,  we  do  not  include  special 
directions  for  behaviour  in  school,  at  table,  or  on  the  exchange ; 
and  though  Political  Philosophy  has  for  its  topic  the  conduct  of 
men  in  their  public  relations,  it  does  not  concern  itself  with 
modes  of  voting  or  details  of  administration.  Both  of  these 
sections  of  Philosophy  contemplate  particular  instances  only  as 
illustrating  truths  of  wide  application. 

§  37.  Thus  every  one  of  these  conceptions  implies  belief 
in  a  possible  way  of  knowing  things  more  completely  than  they 
are  known  through  simple  experiences,  mechanically  accumu- 
lated in  memory  or  heaped  up  in  cyclopaedias.  Though  in  the 
extent  of  the  sphere  which  they  have  supposed  Philosophy  to 
fill,  men  have  differed  and  still  differ  very  widely ;  yet  there  is  a 
real  if  unavowed  agreement  among  them  in  signifying  by  this 
title  a  knowledge  which  transcends  ordinary  knowledge.  That 
which  remains  as  the  common  element  in  these  conceptions  of 
Philosophy,  after  the  elimination  of  their  discordant  elements, 
is  —  knowledge  of  the  highest' degree  of  generality.  We  see  this  . 
tacitly  asserted  by  the  simultaneous  inclusion  of  God,  Nature,- 
and  Man,  within  its  scope ;  or  still  more  distinctly  by  the  division 
of  Philosophy  as  a  whole  into  Theological,  Physical,  Ethical, 
&c.  For  that  which  characterizes  the  genus  of  which  these  are 


;i2  SPENCER 

species,  must  be  something  more  general  than  that  which  dis- 
tinguishes any  one  species. 

What  must  be  the  shape  here  given  to  this  conception? 
Though  persistently  conscious  of  a  Power  manifested  to  us,  we 
have  abandoned  as  futile  the  attempt  to  learn  anything  respect- 
ing that  Power,  and  so  have  shut  out  Philosophy  from  much  of 
the  domain  supposed  to  belong  to  it.  |  The  domain  left  is  that 
occupied  by  Science j  Science  concerns  itself  with  the  co-exist- 
ences and  sequences  among  phenomena ;  grouping  these  at  first 
into  generalizations  of  a  simple  or  low  order,  and  rising  gradually 
to  higher  and  more  extended  generalizations.  But  if  so,  where 
remains  any  subject-matter  for  Philosophy? 

The  reply  is  —  Philosophy  may  still  properly  be  the  title 
retained  for  knowledge  of  the  highest  ^generality.  'Science 
means  merely  the  family  of  the  Sciences  —  stands  for  nothing 
more  than  the  sum  of  knowledge  formed  of  their  contributions ; 
and  ignores  the  knowledge  constituted  by  the  fusion  of  these 
contributions  into  a  whole.  As  usage  has  denned  it,  Science 
consists  of  truths  existing  more  or  less  separated  and  does  not 
recognize  these  truths  as  entirely  integrated.  An  illustration 
will  make  the  difference  clear. 

If  we  ascribe  the  flow  of  a  river  to  the  same  force  which  causes 
the  fall  of  a  stone,  we  make  a  statement  that  belongs  to  a  cer- 
tain division  of  Science.  If,  to  explain  how  gravitation  produces 
this  movement  in  a  direction  almost  horizontal,  we  cite  the  law 
that  fluids  subject  to  mechanical  forces  exert  re-active  forces 
which  are  equal  in  all  directions,  we  formulate  a  wider  truth, 
containing  the  scientific  interpretations  of  many  other  phe- 
nomena; as  those  presented  by  the  fountain,  the  hydraulic 
press,  the  steam-engine,  the  air-pump.  And  when  this  propo- 
sition, extending  only  to  the  dynamics  of  fluids,  is  merged  in  a 
proposition  of  general  dynamics,  comprehending  the  laws  of 
movement  of  solids  as  well  as  of  fluids,  there  is  reached  a  yet 
higher  truth ;  but  still  a  truth  that  comes  wholly  within  the  realm 
of  Science.  Again,  looking  around  at  Birds  and  Mammals, 
suppose  we  say  that  air-breathing  animals  are  hot-blooded ;  and 
that  then,  remembering  how  Reptiles,  which  also  breathe  air, 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    713 

are  not  much  warmer  than  their  media,  we  say,  more  truly,  that 
animals  (bulks  being  equal)  have  temperatures  proportionate 
to  the  quantities  of  air  they  breathe;  and  that  then,  calling  to 
mind  certain  large  fish,  as  the  tunny,  which  maintain  a  heat 
considerably  above  that  of  the  water  they  swim  in,  we  further 
correct  the  generalization  by  saying  that  the  temperature  varies 
as  the  rate  of  oxygenation  of  the  blood ;  and  that  then,  modify- 
ing the  statement  to  meet  other  criticisms,  we  finally  assert  the 
relation  to  be  between  the  amount  of  heat  and  the  amount  of 
molecular  change  —  supposing  we  do  all  this,  we  state  scientific 
truths  that  are  successively  wider  and  more  complete,  but  truths 
which,  to  the  last,  remain  purely  scientific.  Once  more  if, 
guided  by  mercantile  experiences,  we  reach  the  conclusions  that 
prices  rise  when  the  demand  exceeds  the  supply ;  that  commod- 
ities flow  from  places  where  they  are  abundant  to  places  where 
they  are  scarce;  that  the  industries  of  different  localities  are 
determined  in  their  kinds  mainly  by  the  facilities  which  the 
localities  afford  for  them;  and  if,  studying  these  generalizations 
of  political  economy,  we  trace  them  all  to  the  truth  that  each 
man  seeks  satisfaction  for  his  desires  in  ways  costing  the  smallest 
efforts  —  such  social  phenomena  being  resultants  of  individual 
actions  so  guided;  we  are  still  dealing  with  the  propositions  of 
Science  only. 

How,  then,  is  Philosophy  constituted?  It  is  constituted  by 
carrying  a  stage  further  the  process  indicated.  |So  long  as  these 
truths  are  known  only  apart  and  regarded  as  independent,  even 
the  most  general  of  them  cannot  without  laxity  of  speech  be 
called  philosophical. f  But  when,  having  been  severally  reduced 
to  a  mechanical  axiom,  a  principle  of  molecular  physics,  and  a 
law  of  social  action,  they  are  contemplated  together  as  corolla- 
ries of  some  ultimate  truth,  then  we  rise  to  the  kind  of  knowledge 
which  constitutes  Philosophy  proper. 

The  truths  of  Philosophy  thus  bear  the  same  relation  to  the 
highest  scientific  truths,  that  each  of  these  bears  to  lower  scien- 
tific truths.  As  each  widest  generalization  of  Science  compre- 
hends and  consolidates  the  narrower  generalizations  of  its  own 
division;  so  the  generalizations  of  Philosophy  comprehend  and 


7H  SPENCER 

consolidate  the  widest  generalizations  of^Science.\It  is  therefore 
a  knowledge  the  extreme  opposite  in  kind  to  that  which  experi- 
ence first  accumulates.  It  is  the  final  product  ol  that  process 
which  begins  with  a  mere  colligation  of  crude  observations, 
goes  on  establishing  propositions  that  are  broader  and  more 
separated  from  particular  cases,  and  ends  in  universal  propo- 
sitions. \  Or  to  bring  the  definition  to  its  simplest  and  clearest 
form :  —  Knowledge  of  the  lowest  kind  is  un-unified  knowledge ; 
Science  is  partially-unified  knowledge ;  Philosophy  is  completely- 
unified  knowledge. 

CHAPTERS  XIV-XVII.    THE  LAW  OF  EVOLUTION 

[Ch.  XIV.]  §  107.  Deduction  has  now  to  be  verified  by  in- 
duction. Thus  far  the  argument  has  been  that  all  sensible  exist- 
ences mustf  in  some  way  or  other  and  at  some  time  or  other, 
reach  their  concrete  shapes  through  processes  of  concentration ; 
and  the  facts  named  have  been  named  merely  to  clarify  the 
perception  of  this  necessity.  But  we  have  not  arrived  at  that 
unified  knowledge  constituting  Philosophy,  until  we  have  seen 
howjexistences  of  all  orders  do  exhibit  a  progressive  integration 
of  Matter  and  accompanying  loss  of  Motion.(\Tracing,  so  far 
as  we  may  by  observation  and  inference,  the  objects  dealt  with 
by  the  Astronomer  and  the  Geologist,  as  well  as  those  which 
Biology,  Psychology,  and  Sociology  treat  of,  we  have  to  consider 
what  direct  proof  there  is  that  the  Cosmos,  in  general  and  in 
detail,  conforms  to  this  law. 

Throughout  the  classes  of  facts  successively  contemplated, 
attention  will  be  directed  not  so  much  to  the  truth  that/  every 
aggregate  has  undergone,  or  is  undergoing,  integration,  as  to 
the  further  truth  that  in  every  more  or  less  separate  part  of 
every  aggregate,  integration  has  been,  or  is,  in  progress.)  In- 
stead of  simple  wholes  and  wholes  of  which  the  complexity  has 
been  ignored,  we  have  now  to  deal  with  wholes  as  they  actually 
exist  —  mostly  made  up  of  many  members  combined  in  many 
ways.  And  in  them  we  shall  have  to  trace  the  transformation 
under  several  forms  —  a  passage  of  the  total  mass  from  a  more 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    715 

diffused  to  a  more  consolidated  state;  a  concurrent  similar 
passage  in  every  portion  of  it  that  comes  to  have  a  distinguish- 
able individuality;  and  a  simultaneous  increase  of  combination 
among  such  individualized  portions. 

§  in  .  .  .  Though  evolutions  of  the  various  products  of 
social  activities  cannot  be  said  directly  to  exemplify  the  integra- 
tion of  matter  and  dissipation  of  motion,  yet  they  exemplify 
it  indirectly.  /For  the  progress  of  Language,  of  Science,  and 
of  the  Arts,  industrial  and  aesthetic,  is  an  objective  register  of 
subjective  changes.  |  Alterations  of  structure  in  human  beings, 
and  concomitant  alterations  of  structure  in  aggregates  of  human 
beings,  jointly  produce  corresponding  alterations  of  structure 
in  all  those  things  which  humanity  creates.  As  in  the  changed 
impress  on  the  wax,  we  read  a  change  in  the  seal;  so  in  the 
integrations  of  advancing  Language,  Science,  and  Art,  we  see 
reflected  certain  integrations  of  advancing  human  structure, 
individual  and  social.  A  section  must  be  devoted  to  each  group.  •* 

§  112.  Among  uncivilized  races,  the  many- syllabled  names 
of  not  uncommon  objects,  as  well  as  the  descriptive  character 
of  proper  names,  show  that  the  words  used  for  the  less-familiar 
things  are  formed  by  uniting  the  words  used  for  the  more- 
familiar  things.  This  process  of  composition  is  sometimes 
found  in  its  incipient  stage  —  a  stage  in  which  the  component 
words  are  temporarily  joined  to  signify  some  un-named  object, 
and,  from  lack  of  frequent  use,  do  not  permanently  cohere. 
But  in  most  inferior  languages,  the  process  of  "agglutination" 
has  gone  far  enough  to  produce  some  stability  in  the  compound 
words :  there  is  a  manifest  integatipn.  How  small  is  this  in- 
tegration, however,  in  comparison  with  that  reached  in  well- 
developed  languages,  is  shown  both  by  the  great  length  of  the 
compound  words  used  for  common  things  and  acts,  and  by 
the  separableness  of  their  elements.  Certain  North-American 
tongues  illustrate  this  very  well.  In  a  Ricaree  vocabulary  ex- 
tending to  fifty  names  of  common  objects,  which  in  English  are 
nearly  all  expressed  by  single  syllables,  there  is  not  one  mono- 
syllabic word.  Things  so  familiar  to  these  hunting  tribes  as 


716  SPENCER 

dog  and  bow,  are,  in  the  Pawnee  language,  ashakish  and  teera- 
gish;  the  hand  and  the  £;yes  are  respectively  iksheeree  and  &ee- 
reekoo;  for  da;y  the  term  is  shakoorooeeshairet,  and  for  de-z^/  it 
is  tsaheekshkakooraiwah;  while  the  numerals  are  composed  of 
from  two  syllables  up  to  five,  and  in  Ricaree  up  to  seven.  ^That 
the  great  length  of  these  familiar  words  implies  low  develop- 
ment, and  that  in  the  formation  of  higher  languages  out  of 
lower  there  is  a  gradual  integration,  which  reduces  the  poly- 
syllables to  dissyllables  and  monosyllables,  is  an  inference 
confirmed  by  the  history  of  our  own  language^  Anglo-Saxon 
steorra  has  been  in  course  of  time  consolidated  into  English 
star,  mona  into  moon,  and  nama  into  name.  The  transition 
through  semi-Saxon  is  clearly  traceable.  Sunu  became  in 
semi-Saxon  sune,  and  in  English  son:  the  final  e  of  sune  being 
an  evanescent  form  of  the  original  u.  The  change  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon  plural,  formed  by  the  distinct  syllable  as,  to  our 
•plural,  formed  by  the  appended  consonant  s,  shows  the  same 
thing :  smithas  in  becoming  smiths,  and  endas  in  becoming  ends, 
illustrate  progressive  coalescence.  So,  too,  does  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  terminal  an  in  the  infinitive  mood  of  verbs ;  as  shown 
in  the  transition  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  cuman  to  the  semi-Saxon 
cumme,  and  to  the  English  come.  Moreover  the  process  has  been 
slowly  going  on,  even  since  what  we  distinguish  as  English  was 
formed.  In  Elizabeth's  time,  verbs  were  still  frequently  plural- 
ized  by  the  addition  of  en  —  we  tell  was  we  tellen;  and  in  some 
places  this  form  of  speech  may  even  now  be  heard.  In  like  man- 
ner the  terminal  ed  of  the  past  tense,  has  united  with  the  word 
it  modifies.  Burn-ed  has  in  pronunciation  become  burnt;  and 
even  in  writing  the  terminal  /  has  in  some  cases  taken  the  place 
of  the  ed.  Only  where  antique  forms  in  general  are  adhered  to, 
as  in  the  church-service,  is  the  distinctness  of  this  inflection  still 
maintained.  Further,  we  see  that  the  compound  vowels  have 
been  in  many  cases  fused  into  single  vowels.  That  in  bread  the 
e  and  a  were  originally  both  sounded,  is  proved  by  the  fact  that 
they  are  still  so  sounded  in  parts  where  old  habits  linger.  We, 
however,  have  contracted  the  pronunciation  into  bred ;  and  we 
have  made  like  changes  in  many  other  common  words.  Lastly, 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    717 

let  it  be  noted  that  where  the  repetitionjs_greatest,  the  process 
is  carried  furthest ;  as  instance  the  contraction  of  lord  (originally 
hlaford)  into  lud  in  the  mouths  of  barristers ;  and,  still  better,  the 
coalescence  of  God  be  with  you  into  Good  bye. 

§  1 1 3. /The  history  of  Science  presents  facts  of  the  same 
meaning  at  every  step,  f  Indeed  the  integration  of  groups  of  like 
entities  and  like  relations,  constitutes  the  most  conspicuous  part 
of  scientific  progress.  A  glance  at  the  classificatory  sciences 
shows  that  the  confused  incoherent  aggregations  which  the  vul- 
gar make  of  natural  objects,  are  gradually  rendered  complete 
and  compact,  and  bound  up  into  groups  within  groups.  While, 
instead  of  considering  all  marine  creatures  as  fish,  shell-fish,  and 
jelly-fish,  Zoology  establishes  among  them  sub-divisions  under 
the  heads  Vertebrata,  Annulosa,  Mollusca,  Ccelenterata,  &c. ;  and 
while,  in  place  of  the  wide  and  vague  assemblage  popularly 
described  as  "creeping  things,"  it  makes  the  specific  classes 
Annelida,  Myriapoda,  Insecta,  Arachnida ;  it  simultaneously 
gives  to  these  an  increasing  consolidation.  \The  several  species^ 
genera  and  orders  of  which  each  consists,  are  arranged  according 
to  their  affinities  and  tied  together  under  common  definitions;! 
at  the  same  time  that,  by  extended  observation  and  rigorous 
criticism,  the  previously  unknown  and  undetermined  forms  are 
integrated  with  their  respective  congeners.!  Nor  is  the  process  \ 
less  clearly  displayed  in  those  sciences  which  have  for  their  sub-  ' 
ject-matter,  not  classified  objects  but  classified  relationsj  Under 
one_of_  its  chief  aspects,  scientific  advance  is  the  advance  of  gen- 
eralization ;  [and  generalization  is  uniting  into  groups  all  like 
co-existences  and  sequences  among  phenomena.  /  The  colliga- 
tion of  many  concrete  relations  into  a  generalization  of  the  lowest 
order,  exemplifies  this  process  in  its  simplest  form;fand  it  is 
again  exemplified  in  a  more  complex  form  by  the  colligation  of 
these  lowest  generalizations  into  higher  ones,  and  these  into  still 
higher  ones.  \  Year  by  year  connexions  are  established  among 
orders  of  phenomena  that  appear  unallied ;  and  these  connexions, 
multiplying  and  strengthening,  gradually  bring  the  seemingly 
unallied  orders  under  a  common  bond.  When,  for  example, 


;i8  SPENCER 

Humboldt  quotes  the  observation  of  the  Swiss  —  "It  is  going  to 
rain  because  we  hear  the  murmur  of  the  torrents  nearer,"  — 
when  he  recognizes  the  kinship  between  this  and  an  observation 
of  his  own,  that  the  cataracts  of  the  Orinoco  are  heard  at  a  greater 
distance  by  night  than  by  day  —  when  he  notes  the  analogy 
between  these  facts  and  the  fact  that  the  unusual  visibility  of 
remote  objects  is  also  an  indication  of  coming  rain  —  and  when 
he  points  out  that  the  common  cause  of  these  variations  is  the 
smaller  hindrance  offered  to  the  passage  of  both  light  and  sound, 
by  media  which  are  comparatively  homogeneous,  either  in  tem- 
perature or  hygrometric  state;  he  helps  in  bringing  under  one 
generalization  certain  traits  of  lights  and  certain  traits  of  sound. 
I  Experiments  having  shown  that  light  and  sound  conform  to  like 
laws  of  reflection  and  refraction,  the  conclusion  that  they  are 
both  produced  by  undulations  —  though  undulations  of  unlike 
kinds  —  gains  probability:  there  is  an  incipient  integration  of 
two  classes  of  facts  between  which  no  connexion  was  suspected 
in  times  past.  \  A  still  more  decided  integration  has  been  of  late 
taking  place  between  the  once  independent  sub-sciences  of  Elec- 
tricity, Magnetism,  and  Light. 

The  process  will  manifestly  be  carried  much  further.  Such 
propositions  as  those  set  forth  in  preceding  chapters,  on  "The 
Persistence  of  Force,"  "  The  Transformation  and  Equivalence 
of  Forces,"  "The  Direction  of  Motion,"  and  "The  Rhythm  of 
Motion,"  unite  within  single  bonds  phenomena  belonging  to  all 
orders  of  existences.  And  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  that  which 
we  here  understand  by  Philosophy,  there  must  eventually  be 
reached  a  universal  integration. 

§  ii4.\Nor  do  the  industrial  and  aesthetic  Arts  fail  to  supply 
us  with  equally  conclusive  evidence.  /The  progress  from  small 
and  simple  tools,  to  complex  and  large  machines,  is  a  progress 
mjritegration.  Among  what  are  classed  as  the  mechanical 
powers,  the  advance  from  the  lever  to  the  wheel-and-axle  is  an 
advance  from  a  simple  agent  to  an  agent  made  up  of  several 
simple  ones.  On  comparing  the  wheel-and-axle,  or  any  of  the 
mechanical  appliances  used  in  early  times  with  those  used  now, 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY      719 

we  see  that  in  each  of  our  machines  several  of  the  primitive 
machines  are  united.  A  modern  apparatus  for  spinning  or  weav- 
ing, for  making  stockings  or  lace,  contains  not  simply  a  lever,  an 
inclined  plane,  a  screw,  a  wheel-and-axle,  joined  together,  but 
several  of  each  —  all  made  into  a  whole.  (Again,  in  early  ages, 
when  horse-power  and  man-power  were  alone  employed,  the 
motive  agent  was  not  bound  up  with  the  tool  moved ;  but  the  two 
have  now  become  in  many  cases  joined  together.)  The  firebox 
and  boiler  of  a  locomotive  are  combined  with  the  machinery 
which  the  steam  works.l  A  much  more  extensive  integration  is 
seen  in  every  factory!  J3ere  numerous  complicated  machines  are 
all  connected  by  driving  shafts  with  the  same  steam-engine  — 
all  united  with  it  into  one  vast  apparatuD 

Contrast  the  mural  decorations  of  the  Egyptians  and  Assyr- 
ians with  modern  historical  paintings,  and  there  is  manifest  an 
advance  in  unity  of  composition  —  in  the  subordination  of  the 
parts  to  the  whole.  /One  of  these  ancient  frescoes  is  made  up  of 
figures  which  vary  but  little  in  conspicuousness :  there  are  no 
gradations  of  light  and  shade.)  The  same  trait  may  be  noted  in 
the  tapestries  of  medieval  days.  Representing  perhaps  a  hunting 
scene,  one  of  these  contains  men,  horses,  dogs,  beasts,  birds,  trees, 
and  flowers,  miscellaneously  dispersed :  the  living  objects  being 
variously  occupied,  and  mostly  with  no  apparent  consciousness 
of  one  another's  proximity.  But  in  paintings  since  produced, 
faulty  as  many  of  them  are  in  this  respect,  therejs_ always  some 
co-ordination  —  an  arrangement  of  attitudes,  expressions,  lights, 
and  colours,  such  as  to  combine  the  parts  into  a  single  scene; 
and  the  success  with  which  unity  of  effect  is  educed  from  variety 
of  components,  is  a  chief  test  of  merit. 

In  music,  progressive  integration  is  displayed  in  more  numer- 
ous ways.  The  simple  cadence  embracing  but  a  few  notes,  which 
in  the  chants  of  savages  is  monotonously  repeated,  becomes, 
among  civilized  races,  a  long  series  of  different  musical  phrases 
combined  into  one  whole ;  and  so  complete  is  the  integration  that 
the  melody  cannot  be  broken  off  in  the  middle,  nor  shorn  of  its 
final  note,  without  giving  us  a  painful  sense  of  incompleteness. 
When  to  the  air,  a  bass,  a  tenor,  and  an  alto  are  added;  and 


720  SPENCER 

when  to  the  different  voice-parts  there  is  joined  an  accompani- 
ment ;  we  see  integrations  of  another  order  which  grow  gradually 
more  elaborate.  And  the  process  is  carried  a  stage  higher  when 
these  complex  solos,  concerted  pieces,  choruses,  and  orchestral 
effects,  are  combined  into  the  vast  ensemble  of  an  oratorio  or  a 
musical  drama. 

Once  more  the  Arts  of  literary  delineation,  narrative  and 
dramatic,  furnish  us  with  illustrations.  The  tales  of  primitive 
times,  like  those  with  which  the  story-tellers  of  the  East  still 
amuse  their  listeners,  are  made  up  of  successive  occurrences, 
mostly  unnatural,  that  have  nojiatuial  connexions:  they  are 
but  so  many  separate  adventures  put  together  without  necessary 
sequence.  But  in  a  good  modern  work  of  imagination,  the  events 
are  the  proper  products  of  the  characters  living  under  given 
conditions;  and  cannot  at  will  be  changed  in  their  order  or 
kind,  without  injuring  or  destroying  the  gen£ra]_£flect.  Further, 
the  characters  themselves,  which  in  early  fictions  play  their 
respective  parts  without  showing  how  their  minds  are  modified 
by  one  another  or  by  the  events,  are  now  presented  to  us  as  held 
together  by  complex  moral  relations,  and  as  acting  and  re-acting 
on  one  another's  natures. 

§  1 1 5. /Evolution,  then,  under  its  primary  aspect,  is  a  change 
from  a  less  coherent  form  to  a  more  coherent  form,  consequent 
on  the  dissipation  of  motion  and  integration  of  matter.)  This  is 
the  universal  process  through  which  sensible  existences,  indi- 
vidually and  as  a  whole,  pass  during  the  ascending  halves  of 
their  histories.  This  proves  to  be  a  character  displayed  in  those 
earliest  changes  which  the  visible  Universe  is  supposed  to  have 
undergone,  and  in  those  latest  changes  which  we  trace  in  societies 
and  the  products  of  social  life.  (And,  throughout,  the  unification 
proceeds  in  several  ways  simultaneously.; 

[Ch.  XV.]  §  1 1 6.  Changes  great  in  their  amounts  and  various 
in  their  kinds,  which  accompany  those  dealt  with  in  the  last 
chapter,  have  thus  far  been  ignored ;  or,  if  tacitly  recognized,  have 
not  been  avowedly  recognized.  (Integration  of  each  whole  has 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    721 

been  described  as  taking  place  simultaneously  with  integration 
of  each  of  the  parts  into  which  it  divides  itself.  |But  how  comes 
the  whole  to  divide  itself  into  parts?  /This  is  a  transformation 
more  remarkable  than  the  passage  of  the  whole  from  an  incoher- 
ent to  a  coherent  state ;  and  a  formula  which  says  nothing  about 
it  omits  more  than  half  the  phenomena  to  be  formulated.  ^ 

This  larger  half  of  the  phenomena  we  have  now  to  treat.  Here 
we  are  concerned  with  those  secondary  re-distributions  of  matter  ^ 
and  motion  which  go  on  along  with  the  primary  re-distribution. 
We  saw  that  while  in  very  incoherent  aggregates,  secondary 
re-distributions  produce  but  evanescent  results,  in  aggregates 
that  reach  and  maintain  a  certain  medium  state,  neither  very 
incoherent  nor  very  coherent,  results  of  a  relatively  persistent 
kind  are  produced  —  structural  modifications.  And  our  next 
inquiry  must  be  —  What  is  the  universal  expression  for  these 
structural  modifications? 

Already  an  implied  answer  has  been  given  by  the  title - 
Compound  Evolution.  Already  in  distinguishing  as  simple 
Evolution,  that  integration  of  matter  and  dissipation  of  motion 
which  is  unaccompanied  by  secondary  re-distributions,  it  has 
been  tacitly  asserted  that  where  secondary  re-distributions  occur 
complexity  arises :  the  mass,  instead  of  remaining  uniform,  must 
have  become  multiform.  The  proposition  is  an  identical  one. 
To  say  that  along  with  the  primary  re-distribution  there  go  sec- 
ondary re-distributions,  is  to  say  that  along  with  the  change  from  a 
diffused  to  a  concentrated  state,  there  goes  a change  from  a  homo- 
geneous state  to  a  heterogeneous  state.  The  components  of  the 

mass  while  becoming  integrated  have  also  become  differentiated. 

• 

§  1 2 1. 1  Advance  from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous 
is  clearly  displayed  in  the  progress  of  the  latest  and  most  hetero- 
geneous creature  —  Man.  /  While  the  peopling  of  the  Earth  has 
been  going  on,  the  human  organism  has  grown  more  hetero- 
geneous among  the  civilized  divisions  of  the  species;  and  the 
species,  as  a  whole,  has  been  made  more  heterogeneous  by  the 
multiplication  of  races  and  the  differentiation  of  them  from  one 
another.  In  proof  of  the  first  of  these  statements  may  be  cited 


722  SPENCER 

the  fact  that,  in  the  relative  development  of  the  limbs,  civilized 
men  depart  more  widely  from  the  general  type  of  the  placental 
mammalia,  than  do  the  lowest  men.  Though  often  possessing 
well-developed  body  and  arms,  the  Papuan  has  very  small  legs ; 
thus  reminding  us  of  the  man-like  apes,  in  which  there  is  no 
great  contrast  in  size  between  the  hind  and  fore  limbs.  But  in  the 
European,  the  greater  length  and  massiveness  of  the  legs  has 
become  marked  —  the  fore  and  hind  limbs  are  relatively  more 
heterogeneous.  The  greater  ratio  which  the  cranial  bones  bear 
to  the  facial  bones,  illustrates  the  same  truth.  Among  the  Ver- 
tebrata  in  general,  evolution  is  marked  by  an  increasing  hetero- 
geneity in  the  vertebral  column,  and  especially  in  the  components 
of  the  skull :  the  higher  forms  being  distinguished  by  the  relatively 
larger  size  of  the  bones  which  cover  the  brain,  and  the  relatively 
smaller  size  of  those  which  form  the  jaws,  &c.  Now  this  trait, 
which  is  stronger  in  Man  than  in  any  other  creature,  is  stronger 
in  the  European  than  in  the  savage.  (Moreover,  from  the  greater 
extent  and  variety  of  faculty  he  exhibits,  we  may  infer  that  the 
civilized  man  has  also  a  more  complex  or  heterogeneous  nervous 
system  than  the  uncivilized  man;) and,  indeed,  the  fact  is  in  part 
visible  in  the  increased  ratio  which  his  cerebrum  bears  to  the 

subjacent  ganglia.  .   .  . 

i 

§  126.  Many  further  illustrations  of  the  general  law  through- 
out social  products  might  be  detailed.  Going  back  to  the  time 
when  the  deeds  of  the  god-king,  chanted  and  mimetically  re- 
presented in  dances  before  his  altar,  were  further  narrated  in 
picture-writings  on  the  walls  of  temples  and  palaces,  and  so 
constituted  a  rude  history,  we  might  trace  the  development  of 
Literature  through  phases  in  which,  as  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures, 
it  presents  in  one  work,  theology,  cosmogony,  history,  biography, 
civil  law,  ethics,  poetry ;  through  other  phases  in  which,  as  in  the 
Iliad,  the  religious,  martial,  historical,  the  epic,  dramatic,  and 
lyric  elements  are  similarly  commingled;  down  to  its  present 
heterogeneous  development,  in  which  its  divisions  and  sub- 
divisions are  so  numerous  and  varied  as  to  defy  complete  classi- 
fication. Or  we  might  track  the  unfolding  of  Science ;  beginning 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    723 

with  the  era  in  which  it  was  not  yet  differentiated  from  Art,  and 
was,  in  union  with  Art,  the  handmaid  of  Religion;  passing 
through  the  era  in  which  the  sciences  were  so  few  and  rudimen- 
tary, as  to  be  simultaneously  cultivated  by  the  same  philosophers ; 
and  ending  with  the  era  in  which  the  genera  and  species  are  so 
multitudinous  that  few  can  enumerate  them,  and  no  one  can 
adequately  grasp  even  one  genus.  Or  we  might  do  the  like  with 
Architecture,  with  the  Drama,  with  Dress.  But  doubtless  the 
reader  is  already  weary  of  illustrations,  and  my  promise  has 
been  amply  fulfilled.  VThe  advance  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
plex, through  successive  modifications  upon  modifications,  is 
seen  alike  in  the  earliest  changes  of  the  Heavens  to  which  we  can 
reason  our  way  back,  and  in  the  earliest  changes  we  can  induc- 
tively establish  j  it  is  seen  in  the  geologic  and  climatic  evolution 
of  the  Earth,  of  every  individual  organism  on  its  surface  and  in 
the  aggregate  of  organisms ;  it  is  seen  in  the  evolution  of  Human- 
ity, whether  contemplated  in  the  civilized  man,  or  in  the  assem- 
blage of  races ;  it  is  seen  in  the  evolution  of  Society,  in  respect 
alike  of  its  political,  its  religious,  and  its  economical  organization ; 
and  it  is  seen  in  the  evolution  of  those  countless  concrete  and 
abstract  products  of  human  activity,  which  constitute  the  environ- 
ment of  our  daily  life.  ItFrom  the  remotest  past  which  Science 
can  fathom,  up  to  the  novelties  of  yesterday,  an  essential  trait 
of  Evolution  has  been  the  transformation  of  the  homogeneous 
into  the  heterogeneous.  | 

§  127.  So  that  the  general  formula  arrived  at  in  the  last 
chapter  needs  supplementing.  It  is  true  that  Evolution,  under 
its  primary  aspect,/ is  a  change  from  a  less  coherent  state  to  a 
more  coherent  state,  |  consequent  on  the  dissipation  of  motion 
and  integration  of  matter)  but  this  is  far  from  being  the  whole 
truth.  Along  with  a  passage  from  the  incoherent  to  the  coherent,' 
there  goes  on  a  passage  from  the  uniform  to  the  multiform.  Such, 
at  least,  is  the  fact  wherever  Evolution  is  compound ;  which  it  is 
in  the  immense  majority  of  cases.  While  there  is  a  progressing 
concentration  of  the  aggregate,  caused  either  by  the  closer  ap- 
proach of  the  matter  within  its  limits,  or  by  the  drawing  in  of 


724  SPENCER 

further  matter,  or  by  both  ;\  and  while  the  more  or  less  distinct 
parts  into  which  the  aggregate  divides  and  sub-divides  are  also 
severally  concentrating ;  these  parts  are  simultaneously  becoming 
unlike  —  unlike  in  size,  or  in  form,  or  in  texture,  or  in  compo- 
sition, or  in  several  or  all  of  these.  \The  same  process  is  exhibited 
by  the  whole  and  by  its  members.  The  entire  mass  is  integrating, 
and  at  the  same  time  differentiating  from  other  masses;  while 
each  member  of  it  is  also  integrating  and  at  the  same  time 
differentiating  from  other  members. 

Our  conception,  then,  must  unite  these  characters.  As  we 
now  understand  it,  Evolution  is  definable  as  a  change  from  an 
incoherent  homogeneity  to  a  coherent  heterogeneity,  accom- 
panying the  dissipation  of  motion  and  integration  of  matter. 

[Ch.  XVI.]  §  129.  (At  the  same  time  that  Evolution  is  a  change 
from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous,  it  is  a  change  from 
the  indefinite  to  the  definite.  1  Along  with  an  advance  from 
simplicity  to  complexity,  there  is  an  advance  from  confusion 
to  order  —  from  undetermined  arrangement  to  determined  ar- 
rangement. \Development,  no  matter  of  what  kind,  exhibits 
not  only  a  multiplication  of  unlike  parts,  but  an  increase  in  the 
clearness  with  which  these  parts  are  marked  off  from  one  another. 
And  this  is  the  distinction  sought.  .  .  . 

/If  advance  from  the  indefinite  to  the  definite  is  an  essential 
characteristic  of  Evolution,  we  shall  of  course  find  it  every- 
where displayed ;  as  in  the  last  chapter  we  found  displayed  the 
advance  from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous./ 

§  136.  The  general  advance  of  Science  in  definiteness  is  best 
shown  by  the  contrast  between  its  qualitative  stage  and  its 
quantitative  stage.  At  first  the  facts  ascertained  were  that  be- 
tween such  and  such  phenomena  some  connexion  existed  —  that 
the  appearances  a  and  b  always  occurred  together  or  in  succes- 
sion ;  but  it  was  known  neither  what  was  the  nature  of  the  rela- 
tion between  a  and  6,  nor  how  much  of  a  accompanied  so  much 
of  b.  The  development  of  Science  has  in  part  been  the  reduction 
of  these  vague  connexions  to  distinct  ones.  Most  relations  have 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    725 

been  classed  as  mechanical,  chemical,  thermal,  electric,  magnetic, 
&c. ;  and  we  have  learnt  to  infer  the  relative  amounts  of  the 
antecedents  and  consequents  with  exactness.  Of  illustrations, 
some  furnished  by  physics  have  been  given,  and  from  other 
sciences  plenty  may  be  added.  We  have  ascertained  the  con- 
stituents of  numerous  compounds  which  our  ancestors  could  not 
analyze,  and  of  a  far  greater  number  which  they  never  even  saw ; 
and  the  combining  equivalents  of  the  elements  are  now  accurately 
calculated.  Physiology  shows  advance  from  qualitative  to  quanti- 
tative prevision  in  ascertaining  definite  relations  between  organic 
products  and  the  materials  consumed ;  as  well  as  hi  measurement 
of  functions  by  spirometer  and  sphygmograph.  By  Pathology 
it  is  displayed  in  the  use  of  the  statistical  method  of  determin- 
ing the  sources  of  diseases,  and  the  effects  of  treatment.  In 
Botany  and  Zoology,  the  numerical  comparisons  of  Floras  and 
Faunas,  leading  to  specific  conclusions  respecting  their  sources 
and  distributions,  illustrate  it.  And  in  Sociology,  questionable 
as  are  many  conclusions  drawn  from  the  classified  sum-totals  of 
the  census,  from  the  Board-of-Trade  tables,  and  from  criminal 
returns,  it  must  be  admitted  that  these  imply  a  progress  towards 
more  precise  conceptions  of  social  phenomena. 

[That  an  essential  characteristic  of  advancing  Science  is  in- 
crease in  definiteness,  appears  indeed  almost  a  truism,  when 
we  remember  that  Science  may  be  described  as  definite  know- 
ledge, in  contradistinction  to  that  indefinite  knowledge  possessed 
by  the  uncultured.  I  And  if,  as  we  cannot  question,  Science  has, 
in  the  course  of  ages,  been  evolved  out  of  this  indefinite  know- 
ledge of  the  uncultured,  then,  the  gradual  acquirement  of  that 
great  definiteness  which  now  distinguishes  it,  must  have  been 
a  leading  trait  in  its  evolution. 

§  137.  The  Arts,  industrial  and  aesthetic,  supply  illustra- 
tions perhaps  still  more  striking.  Palaeolithic  flint  implements 
show  the  extreme  want  of  precision  in  men's  first  handiworks. 
Though  a  great  advance  on  these  is  seen  in  the  tools  and  weapons 
of  existing  savage  tribes,  yet  an  inexactness  in  forms  and  fittings 
distinguishes  such  tools  and  weapons  from  those  of  civilized 


726  SPENCER 

races.  In  a  smaller  degree,  the  productions  of  the  less-advanced 
nations  are  characterized  by  like  defects.  A  Chinese  junk,  with 
all  its  contained  furniture  and  appliances,  nowhere  presents  a 
line  that  is  quite  straight,  a  uniform  curve,  or  a  true  surface. 
Nor  do  the  utensils  and  machines  of  our  ancestors  fail  to  exhibit 
a  similar  inferiority  to  our  own.  An  antique  chair,  an  old  fire- 
place, a  lock  of  the  last  century,  or  almost  any  article  of  household 
use  that  has  been  preserved  for  a  few  generations,  proves  by 
contrast  how  greatly  the  industrial  products  of  our  time  excel 
those  of  the  past  in  their  accuracy.  Since  planing  machines 
have  been  invented,  it  has  become  possible  to  produce  abso- 
lutely straight  lines,  and  surfaces  so  truly  level  as  to  be  air-tight 
when  applied  to  each  other;  while  in  the  dividing-engine  of 
Troughton,  in  the  micrometer  of  Whitworth,  in  microscopes 
that  show  fifty  thousand  divisions  to  the  inch,  and  in  ruled  divi- 
sions up  to  200,000,  we  have  an  exactness  as  far  exceeding  that 
reached  in  the  works  of  our  great-grandfathers,  as  theirs  ex- 
ceeded that  of  the  aboriginal  celt-makers. 

In  the  Fine  Arts  there  has  been  a  parallel  progress.  From  the 
rudely-carved  and  painted  idols  of  savages,  through  the  early 
sculptures  characterized  by  limbs  without  muscular  detail, 
wooden-looking  drapery,  and  faces  devoid  of  individuality,  up 
to  the  later  statues  of  the  Greeks  or  some  of  those  now  produced, 
the  increased  accuracy  of  representation  is  conspicuous.  Com- 
pare the  mural  paintings  of  the  Egyptians  with  the  paintings  of 
mediaeval  Europe,  or  these  with  modern  paintings,  and  the  more 
precise  rendering  of  the  appearances  of  objects  is  manifest.  It 
is  the  same  with  fiction  and  the  drama.  In  the  marvellous  tales 
current  among  Eastern  nations,  in  the  romantic  legends  of  feudal 
Europe,  as  well  as  in  the  mystery-plays  and  those  immediately 
succeeding  them,  we  see  great  want  of  correspondence  to  the 
realitiesgfjife ;  alike  in  the  predominance  of  supernatural  events, 
in  the  extremely  improbable  occurrences,  and  in  the  vaguely- 
indicated  personages.  Along  with  social  advance,  there  has  been 
a  progressive  diminjution  of  unnatundriess  —  an  approach  to 
trutk-j^L,  representation.  And  now,  cultivated  men  applaud 
novels  and  plays  Tn  proportion  to  the  fidelity  with  which  they 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    727 

exhibit  characters ;  improbabilities,  like  the  impossibilities  which 
preceded  them,  are  disallowed ;  and  we  see  fewer  of  those  elabo- 
rate plots  which  life  rarely  furnishes :  realities  are  more  definitely 
pictured. 

§  138.  Space  might  be  filled  with  evidences  of  other  kinds, 
but  the  basis  of  induction  is  already  wide  enough.  1  Proof  that 
all  Evolution  is  from  the  indefinite  to  the  definite,;  we  find  not 
less  abundant  than  proof  that  all  Evolution  is  from  the  homo- 
geneous to  the  heterogeneous. 

[Ch.  XVII.]  §  139.  The  conception  of  Evolution  elaborated 
in  the  foregoing  chapters,  is  still  incomplete.  True  though  it  is, 
it  is  not  the  whole  truth.  The  transformations  which  all  things 
undergo  during  the  ascending  phases  of  their  existence,  we  have 
contemplated  under  three  aspects;  and  by  uniting  these  three 
aspects  as  simultaneously  presented,  we  have  formed  an  approxi- 
mate idea  of  the  transformations.  But  there  are  concomitant 
changes  about  which  nothing  has  yet  been  said,  and  which, 
though  less  conspicuous,  are  no  less  essential. 

For  thus  far  we  have  attended  only  to  the  re-distribution  of 
Matter,  neglecting  the  accompanying  re-distribution  of  Motion. 
Distinct  or  tacit  reference  has,  indeed,  repeatedly  been  made  to 
the  dissipation  of  Motion,  that  goes  on  along  with  the  concentra- 
tion of  Matter;  and  were  all  Evolution  absolutely  simple,  the 
total  fact  would  be  contained  in  the  proposition  that  as  Motion 
dissipates  Matter  concentrates.  But  while  we  have  recognized 
the  ultimate  re-distribution  of  the  Motion,  we  have  passed  over 
its  proximate  re-distribution.  Though  something  has  from  time 
to  time  been  said  about  the  escaping  motion,  nothing  has  been 
said  about  the  motion  which  does  not  escape.  In  proportion  as 
Evolution  becomes  compound  —  in  proportion  as  an  aggregate 
retains,  for  a  considerable  time,  such  quantity  of  motion  as  per- 
mits secondary  re-distributions  of  its  component  matter,  there 
necessarily  arise  secondary  re-distributions  of  its  retained  mo- 
tion. As  fast  as  the  parts  are  transformed,  there  goes  on  a  trans- 
formation of  the  sensible  or  insensible  motions  possessed  by  the 


728  SPENCER 

parts.  They  cannot  become  more  integrated,  either  individually 
or  as  a  combination,  without  their  motions,  individual  or  com- 
bined, becoming  more  integrated.  There  cannot  arise  among 
them  heterogeneities  of  size,  of  form,  of  quality,  without  there 
also  arising  heterogeneities  in  the  amounts  and  directions  of 
their  motions,  or  the  motions  of  their  molecules.  And  increasing 
definiteness  of  the  parts  implies  increasing  defmiteness  of  their 
motions.  In  short,  the  rhythmical  actions  going  on  in  each  ag- 
gregate, must  differentiate  and  integrate  at  the  same  time  that 
the  structures  do  so. 

§  1390.  The  general  theory  of  the  re-distribution  of  the  re- 
tained motion,  must  here  be  briefly  stated.  Properly  to  supple- 
ment our  conception  of  Evolution  under  its  material  aspect  by 
a  conception  of  Evolution  under  its  dynamical  aspect,  we  have 
to  recognize  the  source  of  the  integrated  motions  that  arise,  and 
to  see  how  their  increased  multiformity  and  definiteness  are 
necessitated. 

If  Evolution  is  a  passage  from  a  diffused  state  to  an  aggre- 
gated state,  then  the  motions  of  the  celestial  bodies  must  have 
resulted  from  the  uncancelled'  motions  of  their  once  dispersed 
components.  Along  with  the  molecular  motions  everywhere, 
active,  there  were  molar  motions  of  those  vast  streams  of  nebulous 
matter  which  were  generated  during  the  process  of  concentra- 
tion—  molar  motions  of  which  large  portions  were  gradually 
dissipated  as  heat,  leaving  undissipated  portions.  But  since  the 
molar  motions  of  these  nebulous  streams  were  constituted  from 
the  motions  of  multitudinous  incoherent  gaseous  parts  severally 
moving  more  or  less  independently,  it  follows  that  when  aggre- 
gation into  a  liquid  and  finally  solid  celestial  mass  was  reached, 
these  partially  independent  motions  of  the  incoherent  parts 
became  merged  into  the  motion  of  the  whole ;  or,  in  other  words, 
unintegrated  motions  became  an  integrated  motion.  While  we 
must  leave  in  the  shape  of  hypothesis  the  belief  that  the  celestial 
motions  have  thus  originated,  we  may  see,  as  a  matter  of  fact,- 
that  the  integration  of  insensible  motions  originates  all  sensible 
motions  on  the  Earth's  surface.  As  all  know,  the  denudation  of 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    729 

lands  and  deposit  of  new  strata,  are  effected  by  water  while 
descending  to  the  sea,  or  during  the  arrest  of  those  undulations 
produced  on  it  by  winds;  and,  as  before  said,  the  elevation  of 
water  to  the  height  whence  it  fell,  is  due  to  solar  heat,  as  is  also 
the  genesis  of  those  aerial  currents  which  drift  it  about  when 
evaporated  and  agitate  its  surface  when  condensed.  That  is 
to  say,,  the  molecular  motion  of  the  ethereal  medium  is  trans- 
formed into  the  motion  of  gases,  thence  into  the  motion  of  liquids, 
and  thence  into  the  motion  of  solids :  stages  in  each  of  which  a 
certain  amount  of  molecular  motion  is  lost  and  an  equivalent 
motion  of  masses  gained.  It  is  the  same  with  organic  movements. 
Certain  rays  issuing  from  the  Sun,  enable  the  plant  to  reduce 
special  elements  existing  in  gaseous  combinations  around  it,  to 
solid  forms  —  enable  the  plant,  that  is,  to  grow  and  carry  on  its 
functional  changes.  And  since  growth,  equally  with  circulation 
of  sap,  is  a  mode  of  sensible  motion,  while  those  rays  which  have 
been  expended  in  generating  both  consist  of  insensible  motions, 
we  have  here,  too,  a  transformation  of  the  kind  alleged.  Animals, 
derived  as  their  forces  are,  directly  or  indirectly,  from  plants, 
carry  ihis  transformation  a  step  further.  The  automatic  move- 
ments of  the  viscera,  together  with  the  voluntary  movements 
of  the  limbs  and  body  at  large,  arise  at  the  expense  of  certain 
molecular  movements  throughout  the  nervous  a"nd  muscular 
tissues ;  and  these  originally  arose  at  the  expense  of  certain  other 
molecular  movements  propagated  by  the  Sun  to  the  Earth;  so 
that  both  the  structural  and  functional  motions  which  organic 
Evolution  displays,  are  motions  of  aggregates  generated  by  the 
arrested  motions  of  units.  Even  with  the  aggregates  of  these 
aggregates  the  same  rule  holds.  For  among  associated  men  the 
progress  is  ever  towards  a  merging  of  individual  actions  in  the 
actions  of  corporate  bodies.  I  In  militant  life  this  is  seen  in  the 
advance  from  the  independent  fighting  of  separate  warriors  to 
the  combined  fighting  of  regiments,  and  in  industrial  life  in  the 
advance  from  the  activities  of  separate  workers  to  the  combined 
activities  of  factory  hands.  So  is  it,  too,  when  instead  of  acting 
alone  citizens  act  in  bodies  -t^ompanies,  unions,  associations, 
&c.  While,  then,  during  Evolution  the  escaping  motion  becomes, 


730  SPENCER 

by  widening  dispersion,  more  disintegrated,  the  motion  that  is 
for  a  time  retained,  becomes  more  integrated ;  and  so,  considered 
dynamically,  Evolution  is  a  decrease  in  the  relative  movements 
of  parts  and  increase  in  the  relative  movements  of  wholes  — 
using  the  words  parts  and  wholes  in  their  most  general  senses. 
The  advance  is  from  the  motions  of  simple  molecules  to  the 
motions  of  compound  molecules ;  from  molecular  motions  to  the 
motions  of  masses;  and  from  the  motions  of  smaller  masses  to 
the  motions  of  larger  masses. 

The  accompanying  change  towards  greater  multiformity 
among  the  retained  motions,  takes  place  under  the  form  of  an 
increased  variety  of  rhythms.  A  multiplication  of  rhythms 
must  accompany  a  multiplication  in  the  degrees  and  modes  of 
aggregation,  and  in  the  relations  of  the  aggregated  masses  to 
incident  forces.  The  degree  or  mode  of  aggregation  will  not, 
indeed,  affect  the  rate  or  extent  of  rhythm  where  the  incident 
force  increases  as  the  aggregate  increases,  which  is  the  case  with 
gravitation :  here  the  only  cause  of  variation  in  rhythm  is  differ- 
ence of  relation  to  the  incident  force;  as  we  see  in  a  pendulum 
which,  though  unaffected  in  its  movements  by  a  change  in  the 
weight  of  the  bob,  alters  its  rate  of  oscillation  when  its  length 
is  altered  or  when,  otherwise  unchanged,  it  is  taken  to  the  equator. 
But  in  all  cases  where  the  incident  forces  do  not  vary  as  the 
masses,  every  new  order  of  aggregation  initiates  a  new  order  of 
rhythm :  witness  the  conclusion  drawn  from  the  recent  researches 
into  radiant  heat  and  light,  that  the  molecules  of  different  gases 
have  different  rates  of  undulation.  So  that  increased  multi- 
formity in  the  arrangement  of  matter,  necessarily  generates  in- 
creased multiformity  of  rhythm ;  both  through  increased  variety 
in  the  sizes  and  forms  of  aggregates,  and  through  increased 
variety  in  their  relations  to  the  forces  which  move  them.  That 
these  motions,  as  they  become  more  integrated  and  more  hetero- 
geneous, must  become  more  definite,  is  a  proposition  that  need 
not  detain  us.  In  proportion  as  any  part  of  an  evolving  whole 
segregates  and  consolidates,  and  in  so  doing  loses  the  relative 
mobility  of  its  components,  its  aggregate  motion  must  obviously 
acquire  distinctness. 


FIRST  PRINCIPLES  OF  PHILOSOPHY    731 

§  144.  How  in  societies  the  movements  or  functions  pro- 
duced by  the  confluence  of  individual  actions,  increase  in  their 
amounts,  their  multiformities,  their  precision,  and  their  combi- 
nation, scarcely  needs  insisting  upon  after  what  has  been  pointed 
out  in  foregoing  chapters.  For  the  sake  of  symmetry  of  state- 
ment, however,  a  typical  example  or  two  may  be  set  down. 

At  first  the  military  activities,  undifferentiated  from  the  rest 
(all  men  in  primitive  societies  being  warriors)  are  relatively 
homogeneous,  jll-combined,  and  indefinite :  savages  making  a 
joint  attack  severally  fight  independently,  in  similar  ways,  and 
without  order.  But  as  societies  evolve  the  movements  of  the 
thousands  of  soldiers  which  replace  the  tens  of  warriors,  are 
divided  and  re-divided  hi  their  kinds  of  movements:  here  are 
gunners,  there  infantry,  and  elsewhere  cavalry.  Within  each  of 
the  differentiated  functions  of  these  bodies  there  come  others: 
there  are  distinct  actions  of  privates,  sergeants,  captains,  colonels, 
generals,  as  also  of  those  who  constitute-  the  commissariat  and 
those  who  attend  to  the  wounded.  The  clustered  motions  that 
have  thus  become  comparatively  heterogeneous  in  general  and 
in  detail,  have  simultaneously  increased  in  precision;  so  that  in 
battle,  men  and  the  regiments  formed  of  them,  are  made  to  take 
definite  positions  and  perform  definite  acts  at  definite  times. 
Once  more,  there  has  gone  on  that  integration  by  which  the 
multiform  actions  of  an  army  are  directed  to  a  single  end.  By 
a  co-ordinating  apparatus  having  the  commander-in-chief  for  its 
centre,  the  charges,  and  halts,  and  retreats  are  duly  concerted; 
and  a  hundred  thousand  individual  motions  are  united  under 
one  will. 

Again  on  comparing  the  rule  of  a  savage  chief  with  that  of  a 
civilized  government,  aided  by  its  subordinate  local  governments 
and  their  officers,  down  to  the  police,  we  see  how,  as  men  have 
advanced  from  tribes  of  hundreds  to  nations  of  millions,  the 
regulative  action  has  grown  large  in  amount;  how,  guided  by 
written  laws,  it  has  passed  from  vagueness  and  irregularity  to 
comparative  precision ;  and  how  it  has  sub-divided  into  processes 
increasingly  multiform.  Or  after  observing  how  the  barter  that 
goes  on  among  barbarians  differs  from  our  own  commercial 


732  SPENCER 

processes,  by  which  a  million's  worth  of  commodities  is  dis- 
tributed daily ;  by  which  the  relative  values  of  articles  immensely 
varied  in  kinds  and  qualities  are  exactly  measured,  and  the  sup- 
plies adjusted  to  the  demands;  and  by  which  industrial  activities 
of  all  orders  are  so  combined  that  each  depends  on  the  rest  and 
aids  the  rest ;  we  see  that  the  kind  of  movement  which  constitutes 
trade,  has  become  progressively  more  vast,  more  varied,  more 
definite,  and  more  integrated. 

§  145.  A  finished  conception  of  Evolution  thus  includes  the 
re-distribution  of  the  retained  motion,  as  well  as  that  of  the  com- 
ponent matter.  This  added  element  of  the  conception  is  scarcely, 
if  at  all,  less  important  than  the  other.  The  movements  of  the 
Solar  System  have  a  significance  equal  to  that  which  the  sizes, 
forms,  and  relative  distances  of  its  members  possess.  The  Earth's 
geographical  and  geological  structure  are  not  more  important 
elements  in  the  order  of  Nature  than  are  the  motions,  regular 
and  irregular,  of  the  water  and  the  air  clothing  it.  And  of  the 
phenomena  presented  by  an  organism,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
the  combined  sensible  and  insensible  actions  we  call  its  life,  do 
not  yield  in  interest  to  its  structural  traits.  Leaving  out,  however, 
all  implied  reference  to  the  way  in  which  these  two  orders  of 
facts  concern  us,  it  is  clear  that  with  each  re-distribution  of  mat- 
ter there  necessarily  goes  a  re-distribution  of  motion;  and  that 
the  unified  knowledge  constituting  Philosophy,  must  compre- 
hend both  aspects  of  the  transformation. 

Our  formula,  therefore,  needs  an  additional  clause.  To  com- 
bine this  satisfactorily  with  the  clauses  as  they  stand  in  the  last 
chapter,  is  scarcely  practicable ;  and  for  convenience  of  expression 
it  will  be  best  to  change  their  order.  On  doing  this,  and  making 
the  requisite  addition,  the  formula  finally  stands  thus :  —  Evolu-  ^ 
tion  is  an  integration  of  matter  and  concomitant  dissipation  of 
motion ;  during  which  the  matter  passes  from  an  indefinite,  inco- 
herent homogeneity  to  a  definite,  coherent  heterogeneity  ;  and  during 
which  the  retained  motion  undergoes  a  parallel  transformation. l  u 

1  The  definition  of  Evolution  needs  qualifying  by  introduction  of  the  word 
"  relatively  "  before  each  of  its  antithetical  clauses.  The  statement  should  be 
that  "  the  matter  passes  from  a  relatively  indefinite,  incoherent  homogeneity  to  a 
relatively  definite,  coherent  heterogeneity."  .  .  . 


ilNDEX 


INDEX 


ABBOTT,  T.  K.,  457. 

Absolute,  The,  571,  584,  592,  593,  594. 

Abstraction,  265,  296,  489,  554. 

Academy,  New,  47. 

Accidents,  3,  17,  73,  137,  153,  154,  200, 

249,  269,  270. 
Actuality,  599,  600-604. 
^schines,  51. 

^Esthetic,  Transcendental,  381-405, 442. 
Affections,  35,  200. 
Alexander  the  Great,  51,  52,  61. 
Alexandria,  School  of,  678. 
Analytic,    Transcendental,    391,    392- 

405,  422,  447. 

Anatomy,  Comparative,  682. 
Anaxagoras,  42. 
Anthropology,  566. 
Antinomies,  431-446,  475,  480,   581. 
Appearance,  57,  59,  290,  434,  598-599. 
Apperception,     Transcendental,     400, 

401—403,  414,  429. 
Archetype,  259,  267,  280,  290,  295. 
Archimedes,  123. 
Architecture,  723. 
Aristotle,  10,  u,  18,  19,  21,  36,  41,  42, 

51,  52,  58,  91,  268,  395,  590,  657,  678. 
Arithmetic,  69,  70,  115,  120,  133,  313. 
Art,  Platonic,  651-658. 
Arts,  718-720,  725,  726. 
Assent,  28,  216,  217,  218,  221,  223,  225. 
Association,  Laws  of,  312,  313,  690- 

692. 

Astronomy,  676. 
Atoms,  42;  (Monads),  199-214. 
Attention,  244,  348,  351,  357,  362,  375. 
Attributes,  148-160,  168,  169. 
Autonomy,  463,  471,  473. 
Axioms,  26,  27,  31,  38,  42,  55,  56,  149, 

167-168,  409,  443. 

Bacon,  Francis,  24-56,  678,  683,  684, 

688. 

Bayle,  M.,  201,  208. 
Becoming,  586-588. 


Being,  270,  291,  431,  448-456. 

Being,  Doctrine  of,  582-592. 

Being,  Supreme,  448-456. 

Belief,  118,  484-485,  495- 

Berkeley,  George,  263-306,  630,  697. 

Berthollet,  676. 

Berzelius,  686. 

Biology,  714. 

Blainville,  M.  de,  682. 

Body,  39,  57,  199-204,  231-242,  265, 

270,  273,  281,  330. 
Body,  human,   13,   61,  86,   118,   122- 

132,  186-189,    iQS,    320»    335,    43°, 

640-647. 
Botany,  725. 
Brain,  61,  62,  230,  360. 
Brown,  697. 
Bruno,  Giordano,  1-23. 
Buddhists,  585. 

Cabalists,  4. 

Calderon,  638. 

Cartesians,  201,  337. 

Categories,  41,  392-405,  408,  422,  424, 

503,  577- 
Causality,  74,  154,  191,  313,  316,  319- 

342,   407,   413,   420,   438-441,   460, 

632-637,  695,  702. 

Cause,  final,    154,  164-166,   205,   214. 
Cause,  First,  1-23,  137,  154-163,  453, 

479,  702-705. 
Certainty,  118,  258,  262,  314,  384,  500, 

543- 

Chance,  6oi< 

Changeless,  The,  613-627. 
Chemistry,  676,  678,  686. 
Chimera,  134,  277,  290. 
Chinese,  112. 
Cicero,  72. 
Qarke,  337. 
Columbus,  49. 
Commonwealth  (Hobbes'),  57,  59.  76, 

78,  96-100. 
Comte,  Auguste,  672-689,  710. 


736 


INDEX 


Concept,  The,  406-408,  418,  419,  425, 

426,  427,  432,  446,  449-451,  464- 
Conception,   167,  378,  382,  384,  386, 

39°,  393- 

Conceptions,  Analytic  of,   396-405. 
Condillac,  fitienne  Bonnotde,  347-375. 
Connection,  necessary,   280,  326-342, 

338-339,  353- 
Conscience,  526. 
Consciousness,  330,  384,  395,  498,  500, 

504,  509,  539,  540,  544,  560,  599, 

629,  700,  703. 

Consciousness,  The  Contrite,  614-628. 
Contract,  84,  87-88. 
Cosmology,  432. 
Covenant,  88-89,  9°,  99- 
Cudworth,  337. 
Cynic,  106. 

Deduction,   Transcendental,    397-406, 

554-566,  714- 

Deed-act,  498,  499,  501,  502,  503. 
Definition,  32,  148-149,  154,  155,  162, 

172,  204. 

Degree,  589,  590-592. 
Democritus,  35,  37,  42. 
Descartes,   Rene,    101-147,   2°6,   212, 

337,  504,  630,  678,  684,  685,  687. 
Design,  65,  66,  609. 
Desire,  65,  77,  362-364,  457,  459. 
Dialectic,     Transcendental,     424-456, 

471-485,  579,  58o,  58i. 
Diogenes  Laertes,  651. 
Discovery,  Tables  of,  49,  54. 
Dogmatism,  489-496,  550,  551,  633. 
Doubt,  117-124,  134,  343. 
Dozzi,  655. 
Dreams,  33,  61,  62,  118,  127,  270,  279, 

312,  374,  414,  636-638,  662. 
Duration,  141,  156,  178,  189,  370,  375, 

413,  484,  658. 
Duty,  86,  306,  469,  479,  485,  528,  529. 

Effect,  70,  74,  149,  171,  313-317,  333, 

339,  341,  683,  694. 

Ego,  374,  429,  499~5I5»  535>  559~568. 
Egoism,  645,  646,  664. 
Eleatics,  645,  646,  664. 
Ellis,  R.  L.,  24. 
Elwes,  R.  H.  M.,  148. 
Emotions,  182,  348-364. 


Empedocles,  7,  8,  TO,  21,  42. 
Entelechy,  201,  202,  206,  209,  210,  211. 
Epicureans,  293. 
Error,  71-73,  101,  in,  120. 
Essence,  26,  163,  167,  170,  173,  179, 

181,  188,  189,  191,  205. 
Essence,  Doctrine  of,  582,  592-604. 
Eternity,  155,  156,  190,  191,  193,  370. 
Ethics,  Spinoza's,  148-198. 
Euclid,  175,  258,  314. 
Evil,  78,  95,  194,  214,  305,  533. 
Evolution,  Law  of,  714-732. 
Experience,  51-54,  75,  107,  227,  280, 

315,   316-324,   33i,   385,   386,   387, 

403-405,   420,   443,   445»   446,   447, 

452,  454,  487,  488,  571. 
Experience,  Analogies  of,  411-416. 
Experiment,  27,  35,  41,  42. 
Extension,  120,  123,  139,  141,  168,  171, 

234,  238,   239,   267,   269,   281,  287, 

295,  442. 


Faith, 

Feeling,  348-641. 

Fichte,  Johann  Gottlieb,  486-535,  563, 

633,  7J°- 

Finite,  148,  592,  613. 
Form,  i,  6,  14-21,  381-392,  553,  695, 

696. 

Fourier,  M.,  677. 
Fraser,  A.  C.,  215. 
Freedom,  181-198,  226,  438-439,  454, 

460-471,  490,  493,  495,  5l6>  529» 

568,  603-604. 

Galileo,  678,  688. 

Genus,  657,  658,  666. 

Geometry,  75,  120,  133,  313,  318,  326, 

384,  409,  410. 
Gilbert,  36,  43. 
Gnostics,  ii, 
God,  132-166,  301,  302,  448-456,  478- 

479,  480,  485. 
Good,  78,  79,  95,  465,  466. 
Gravitation,  677. 
Greeks,  41,  43,  59,  92>  667,  7°8- 
Ground,  The,  596-598. 

Habit,  36,  121,  244;  339,  348,  351,  360, 

368,  496- 
Haldane,  R.  B.,  629. 


INDEX 


737 


Haller,  591. 

Hamilton,  Sir  Wm.,  690-702. 

Happiness,    180,    464,    474-476,    478, 

660. 
Harmony,    preestablished,    212,    213, 

3°i>  543- 

Harris,  Wm.  T.,  199. 
Hedge,  Frederic  H.,  199. 
Hegel,     George    Wilhelm     Friedrich, 

569-628. 

Heraclitus,  31,  42,  587. 
Hippocrates,  209. 
History,    7,    656;     natural,    52,    54; 

philosophy  of,  602. 
Hobbes,  Thomas,  57-100,  637. 
Hobbists,  293. 
Homer,  654. 
Homceomera,  42. 
Humboldt,  718. 
Hume,  David,  307-346,  697. 
Hypothesis,  484,  547. 

Idea,  The  Absolute,  569-613. 
Idea,  The  Platonic,  650,  651-658. 
Idea,  World  as,  629-639. 
Ideal,   Transcendental,  446-448,  620- 

626. 

Idealism,  489-496,  633. 
Idealism,     Transcendental,     535-568, 

604. 
Ideas,  association  of,  203-204,  312-313, 

690-692. 
Ideas,  Descartes  on,  133-169;   Locke, 

215-262;  Berkeley,  263-300;  Hume, 

307~3I3>  Condillac,  359-372;  Kant, 

382-389. 

Identity,  430,  558,  564,  594~595>  597- 
Idols,  Bacon's,  24-48. 
Imagination,  33,  59-69,  129,  193,  264, 

265,  276,  312,  343,  357,  373,  399- 

400,  409,  413,  486,  645,  720. 
Imperative,  Categorical,  461-463. 
Impression,  217,   242,   265,  308,  311, 

328>  35°>  354,  370,  393- 
Individuality,  606,  607,  610,  617,  618, 

626. 
Individuationis  principium,  648,  670, 

671. 

Induction,  48-56. 
Inference,  323. 
Infinite,  68,  530,  556,  578,  590,  592. 


Intellect,  7,  8,  9,  160,  161,  173,  175. 
Intuition,  421,  422,  423,  429,  430,  466, 

484,  540,  544,  545,  546,  566,  568, 

584- 

Intuition,  Axioms  of,  409-410. 
Irony,  580. 

James,  William,  614. 

Job,  43. 

Johnson,  Dr.,  698. 

Judgment,  243,  343,  351,  361. 

Jurisprudence,  104. 

Justice,  88,  89,  95,  96,  222,  223,  477. 

Kant,  Immanuel,  376-485,  503,  504, 
514,  565,  581,  591,  630,  631,  632, 

637. 

Kantians,  483. 

Kemp,  J.,  629. 

Kepler,  676. 

Klopstock,  591. 

Knowable,  The,  708-714. 

Knowledge,  Spinoza  on,  174-178,  190- 
192;  Hume,  308-342;  Locke,  254- 
262;  Berkeley,  263-306;  Kant,  376- 
446;  Fichte,  486-515. 

Kroeger,  A.  E.,  497. 

Language,  104,  280,  715,  716. 

Laplace,  688,  689. 

Latins,  59,  66,  75,  78,  90. 

Law,  4,  35,  224,  397,  459,  460,  522, 

526>  S27- 

Law,  moral,  461-483. 
Laws,  natural,  84-96. 
Leibnitz,  Gottfried  Wilhelm  von,  199- 

214. 

Leucippus,  37,  42. 
Leviathan,  Hobbes',  57-100,  637. 
Locke,  John,  215-262,  311,  312,  329, 

337- 

Logic,  26,  27,  31,  42,  112,  113;  tran- 
scendental, of  Kant,  389-406;  He- 
gel's, 569,  613. 

Logic,  transcendental,  377-378,  406- 
424. 

Love  of  God,  Spinoza's  intellectual, 
192-197. 

Lucretius,  664. 

Lully,  112. 

Luynes,  Due  de,  117. 


738 


INDEX 


Mclntyre,  J.  Lewis,  2. 
Magnitude,  590,  591. 
Malebranche,  337. 
Man,  31,  34,  57-96,  721. 
Manichaeism,  305. 
Martineau,  Harriet,  672. 
Martineau,  James,  706. 
Mathematics,  104,  112,  166,  318,  327, 

379,  404,  410,  544,  655. 
Matter,   i,   7,  21,  210,  238,  240,  266, 

267>  34 7>  5l8>  56o,  693-698,  7*4- 
Maxim,  218,  221,  457,  461,  464,  474, 

485- 

Maya,  670. 
Measure,  592. 

Meditations,  Descartes',  117-147. 
Melody,  665. 
Memory,  54,  60,  70,  201,  203,  314,  349, 

357,  36°,  361,  368,  374- 
Metaphysics,  42,  375,  575. 
Method,  74,  216,  300,  338,  563,  681. 
Method,  Comte's,  684-689. 
Method,  Descartes',  101-116. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  690-702. 
Mind,  68,  122-132,  141,  166-180,  181, 

218,   221,   226,   227,   245,  265,   275, 

279,  289,  294,  312,  338,  573,  576. 
Minerva,  14,  113. 
Modality,  394,  396,  417. 
Mode,   157,    170,    171,    172,   178,   246, 

247,  261,  281,  368. 
Molesworth,  Sir  Wm.,  57,  70,  74. 
Molineaux,  243. 

Monadology  of  Leibnitz,  199-214. 
Morality,  461,  463,  474,  479. 
Morals,   Spinoza's,    148-198;     Kant's, 

457-485- 
Motion,  57,  59,  64,  233,  241,  250,  266, 

272,  282,  284,  300,  317,  331,  714,  718, 

727,  730. 

Muller,  F.  Max,  406. 
Multiplicity,  647,  649. 
Music,  719. 

Names,  38,  39,  71,  72,  73. 
Nature,  24,  25,  28,  31,  45,  203,  205, 
211,  213,  276,  303,  305,  336,   518, 

523>  531,  533»  536,  537,  544,  573, 
588,  659,  694,  695,  706,  711,  732. 

Nature,  Hobbes'  Laws  of,  84-96. 

Necessity,  149,  155,  162,  177,  178,  396, 


397,  419,  487,  493,  5*5,  569,  602- 

603. 

Negation,  396,  397,  507. 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  337. 
Nominalist,  42. 
Nothing,  585-589. 
Notion,  26,  30,  177,  219,  251,  299,  347, 

365-37I- 
Notion,  Hegel's  Doctrine  of,  582,  604- 

613. 

Noumena,  420-424. 
Novum  Organum,  24-56. 
Number,  69,  139,  140,  154,  166,  169, 

176,  239,  268,  346,  366,  375,  589. 
Number,    Hegel's    Doctrine    of,    582, 

604-613. 

Object,  540,  559,  561,  608,  632,  633, 

634- 

Objectivity,  608-618,  658,  660. 
Obligation,  462,  463,  703. 
Olympus,  654. 
One,  The,  1-23. 
Ontology,  422. 

Opinion,  in,  124,  175,  216,  283,  342. 
Organum,  2,  392,  544,  546. 
Orpheus,  7. 
Ossian,  654. 
Ovid,  17. 

Paralogisms,  426-431,  432,  480. 
Parcimony,  Law  of,  696. 
Parmenides,  42,  58. 
Passions,  76-80,  84,  207,  307,  362-364, 

374,  683. 
Perception,    130,    131,   201,    202,    207, 

227,    238,    242-245,    307,    381,    385, 

388,    389,    390,  393,    398-399,    418, 

639>  657. 
Perception,  Anticipations  of,  409,  410- 

411. 
Perception,    Kant's    Anticipations    of, 

409,  4io,-4ii. 

Peripatetics,  The,  2,  4,  12,  13,  14,  20. 
Personality,  374,  47°,  47  i»  7°3- 
Petrarch,  669. 
Phenomena,  381-389,  400,  401,  409- 

416,   420-424,   432,   442,   517,   536, 

651,  689. 
Philosophy,  4,  36,  37,  104,  106,  116, 

272,486-496,  511,  569-574,  703-734- 


INDEX 


739 


Philosophy,     Comte's    Positive,    672- 

689. 

Philosophy,  Hume's  sceptical,  342-346. 
Philosophy,  Schelling's  Transcendental, 

535-568. 

Physics,  100,  387,  678,  679. 
Physiology,  678,  725. 
Pindar,  637. 
Plato,  12,  21,  43,  46,  51,  56,  571,  580, 

637,  650,  651,  652,  667. 
Platonists,  4,  51. 
Pleasure,  235-236,  348-362,  373,  375, 

458,  662,  663. 
Plotinus,  ii. 
Plurality,  395,  397. 
Poetry,  105,  546,  664,  665. 
Poiret,  M.,  206. 
Positivism,  672-689. 
Postulates,    168,    409,    416-420,    479- 

481,563,568. 
Power,  57,  144,  155,  163,  181,  206,  238, 

326-337,  341,  470,  704,  707. 
Principle,  122,  204,  294,  320,  387,  392, 

453>  568. 

Principle,  The,  of  Bruno,  1-23. 
Principles,  Kant's  Analytic  of,  406-424. 
Principles,  Locke  on  innate,  217-226. 
Proclus,  51. 

Progression,  infinite,  590-592. 
Proposition,    26,    204,   314,    315,    316, 

321. 
Propositions,  Analytic  and   Synthetic, 

377-378,  384,  386,  387,  553-554- 
Propositions  of  Spinoza,  149-164,  168- 

197. 

Protagoras,  46,  580. 
Psychology,  427,  428,  429,  430,  431, 

682,  706,  714. 
Pyrrho,  47. 
Pyrrhonism,  342,  343. 
Pythagoras,  15,  43,  709. 
Pythagoreans,  7. 

Qualities,  44,  238-242,  252,  266,  269, 

289,  702. 
Quality,  583-588. 
Quantity,  588-592. 
Quieter  of  the  will,  669. 

Rand,  Benjamin,  486,  535. 
Realism,  546,  633. 


Reality,  137,  138,  292,  385,  396,  397, 

411,  425,  452,  546,  547,  690. 
Reason,  69-76,  102-112,  177,  185,  220, 

22i»  254,  316,  327,  494,  516,  628,  675. 
Reason,  Critique  of  Practical,  457-485. 
Reason,  Critique  of  Pure,-  406-456. 
Reason,    Principle   of   Sufficient,  204, 

629,  632-638,  643,  651,  652,  656,  657. 
Reflection,  146,  226-228,  235-237,  326, 

33°>  49?'>  498,  580,  593,  594,  596. 
Reid,  697. 
Reinhold,  563. 
Relation,  246,  248,  256,  257,  291,  412, 

436. 

Religion,  196,  708. 
Researches,  Asiatic,  630. 
Resemblance,  241,  274,  283,  313,  324. 
Rhythm,  718,  730. 
Romance,  105. 
Rorarius,  201,  208. 
Royce,  Josiah,  i,  614. 
Royce,  Katharine,  i. 
Rules,  Moral,   223-226,  457-461. 

Sceptic,  The,  619. 

Scepticism,    290,    292,    342-346,    538, 

614,  615,  619,  645. 
Schelling,  Friedrich  Wilhelm  von,  535- 

568,  701. 

Schematism,  407-418. 
Schoolmen,  42,  69,  312. 
Schopenhauer,  Arthur,  629-671. 
Science,  717-718,  724-725. 
Self,  The,  615-626. 
Self-consciousness,  402,  429,  502,  549, 

558,  566. 
Sensation,  226-228,  235-242,  267,  270, 

293,  311,  381,  382,  410,  411,  416,  418- 
Sensations,    Condillac's    Treatise    on, 

347-375- 

Sensations,  Mill  on  Permanent  Possi- 
bilities of,  690-702. 

Senses,  35,  48,  57-59,  61,  125,  130,  131, 
229,  230-231,  240,  264,  267,  270, 
275,  276,  291,  302,  307,  311,  320, 
347-375.  42i,  448,  642. 

Sensibility,  381,  382,  390,  391,  393,  418, 

427,  443- 

Shakespeare,  637.  • 
Sleep,  61,  118,  119,  122,  201,276,  373. 
Smith,  Wm.,  516,  633,  645. 


740 


INDEX 


Socinians,  294. 

Sociology,  714,  725. 

Socrates,  580,  709. 

Solidity,  230-234,  238,  249,  266,  287. 

Sophists,  580. 

Sophocles,  637. 

Soul,   Immortality   of,    298,    476-477, 

483- 
Space,    200,    232-234,   388,   389,   400, 

405,   410,   415,   435~437»   443»   632» 

653- 

Species,  20,  58,  102,  212,  213. 
Spedding,  James,  24. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  703-732. 
Spinoza,  Baruch  de,  148-198,  504,  591, 

603. 

Spinozism,  530. 

Spirit,  263,  264,  266,  275,  282,  292,  302. 
Statue,  Condillac's  figure  of,  347-375. 
Stewart,  697. 
Stoicism,  619. 
Stoics,  709. 
Substance,  3,  14,  45,  139,  141,  246,  247, 

248-253,  259,  262,  266,  412,  413,  414, 

427,  428,    429,    430,    436-437,    455, 

613,  693. 
Substance,  Spinoza's  Doctrine  of,  148- 

163. 
Substratum,  261,  269,  270,  272,  289, 

412,  413,  562,  606,  647. 
Sumichrast,  Frederick  C.  de,  347. 
Summum  Bonum,  473-476. 

Talmudists,  4. 
Tasso,  Torquato,  668. 
Teleology,  544,  609. 
Terms,  300,  312,  327,  367. 
Theology,  41,  74,  104,  105,  345,  682. 
Theorem,  72,  204. 

Thing-in-itself,  385,  490-648,  653,  656. 
Thought,  150,  161,  1 68,  308,  390,  497, 
572- 


Thought,  Postulates  of,  409,  416-420. 

Thnaeus,  5. 

Time,  188-191,  294,  295,  371,  382,  386- 

389,  398,  399,  400,  408,  411,  414,  436, 

441,  632,  649,  652,  653. 
Troughton,  726. 
Truth,  117,  n8,  122,  136,  206,  217,  221, 

258'  39i>  548,  557,  577,  609,  610,  614. 

Understanding,  14,  32,  38,  46,  50,  64, 
125,  129,  181-198,  215-262,  274, 
307-346,  381,  390,  392-397,  404,  408- 
420,  424,  428,  446,  466,  634,  635, 
642. 

Unity,  236,  268,  393,  401,  432,  586,  592, 
600. 

Unknown,  The,  703-707. 

Vedanta,  630. 

Vedas,  637. 

Veitch,  John,  101,  117. 

Virgil,  1 6. 

Virtue,  196,  197,  469. 

Vision,  Berkeley's  Theory  of,  279. 

Vocation  of  Man,  Fichte's,  516-534. 

Volition,  179,  214,  235,  333,  473,  518, 

523- 
Vyasa,  630. 

Wallace,  Wm.,  569. 

War,  82,  83,  84,  97>-98. 

Watson,  John,  376. 

Whit  worth,  726. 

Will,  135,  136,  179,  206,  235,  326-337, 

459,  461-470,  521,  524,  525,  528,  533. 
World  as  Will  and  Idea,  Schopenhauer 

on,  629-671. 
World,  Mill's  Theory  of  belief  in  ex- 

ternal,  690-702. 

Zeno,  590,  709. 
Zoology,  717. 


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